July 2001

Our visit to Nelson this season was a short and busy

10 weeks. After being out of town for nearly 2 years

it was fun to return, renew old friendships and visit

familiar places. Davey and Lori arrived a month early

to help prepare Alvei for winter in the tropics. Kate

finished a year on board before returning home to

Australia. Arriving within two weeks of departure were

the following crew: Anne, a rocket scientist from

California, Hans a school teacher and his friend Tage

a farmer from Denmark, Martin a German cook, Dean an

American shopping for a yacht, Star a New Age hippie

from Florida, Cambria a recent college graduate from

Calif. and Hiroko a Japanese language student. Nigel a

recently retired husband, returned from last years

crew.

It was a calm and sunny Saturday morning when we bit

farewell to a collection of friends on the dock, cast

off the mooring lines and motored out into Tasman Bay.

The first day we were slowed by head winds and so put

into Croiselles Harbor and anchored for the night at

Okiwi Bay. Everyone, me especially, was glad to get

away from the distractions of leaving and to have a

chance to get good nights sleep before the passage

through the Marlborough Sounds and Cook Straits.

The next morning we were underway again, made French

Pass with a fair tide about noon. The sounds were calm

as a lake. Rounded Cape Jackson before dusk and met an

opposing tide in Cook Strait. This slowed us down till

just before midnight when the tide turned and pushed

us out of the Strait. By dawn we were 12 miles to the

east of Cape Paliser.

Becalmed under a cold, clear sky, the lighthouse at

Cape Paliser was painted orange by the rising sun. We

motored for half a day to get clear of the land. By

evening that lighthouse was shining just on the

horizon.

The first few days I didn’t get much sleep. Despite

several mornings of sail training exercises in port

before we left, the crew seemed mesmerized by the ship

and the sea. If I ordered a sail change they would

stand under the masts looking up at the maze of

rigging as though there were some sign up there to

tell them what to do. I would literally have to take

them to the proper line and put it in their hand. I

would say, “Haul, haul away”. They stare back at me

wide eyed, dumbfounded. Then I say again, in lands

man’s terms, “Pull! Pull-on-the-line! The message is

transferred. They haul away frantically. (Then again,

with our Japanese or Danish crew, who are not at-ease

with the English language, would do the opposite and

haul on lines that needed to be slacked.) So, I have

to repeat and mime the order with gestures of hauling

or slacking. Even simple maneuvers take 2 or 3 times

longer than normal.

Cloudy days with light winds we slowly work our way

off shore to the nor’east. By day 5 we are well clear

of the land. The crew has picked up the basics of

setting and furling sail. For the first time in weeks

I can relax.

Here is a deck log entry for the evening of Day-7.

2000 hours. “The Fore Watch gets the “Bozo Award” for

turning over the watch and leaving the deck with: 1.

All the sails aback, 2. The ship headed in the

opposite direction from the course ordered and 3. The

gaff top’sls set for the opposite tack.” Initialed EL.

It took me and the Main Watch about 20 minutes to get

things sorted out. Later the Fore Watch said that when

they get to Tahiti they plan to have T-shirts printed

that read: Dumb Dumber Dumbest & Anne. Anne, by the

way, is an aerospace engineer, a rocket scientist in

real life.

By day thirteen we have moved on to plan “B” and I

have come to a realization about finalities. Last year

after we hauled out in Maryborough; we were embayed

behind the river bar at Sandy Straits for weeks.

Monitoring weather faxes I could see that, along with

the sou’easterly gales that kept the river bar closed,

there were easterly winds all the way across the

Tasman Sea. We couldn’t have gone far, even if we

could have crossed the bar.

One year later we have the same conditions. Caught in

this stationary high we are pinned down with light to

moderate nor’easterlies. Everyone wants to sail north

into warm weather, but it will have to wait. We will

have to sail farther south to find the westerlies.

Running your Easting down in the roaring forties is

the sort of thing one reads about in the great novels

of the sea. Conrad, Melville and Villers all wrote

about this cold, stormy highway across the Southern

Ocean. Now it is our turn to follow the old sea route.

We will stay south of 40 degrees south until reaching

155 west longitude, then haul gradually to the north

until reaching the sou’east trades, then sail direct

for Tahiti.

Day 17, gray skies and drizzle, making fair headway

‘full and by’ across a cool Northerly breeze. The end

of the booms sheeted out over the rail as Alvei rolls

and dips her lee rail into the foaming sea. A couple

days ago we had our Saturday Field Day, where we all

spend the morning scrubbing the galley and then the

rest of the ship. There had been some issues about

cleanliness and late meals, so I started our weekly

meeting with a talk about our galley routine and how

it works, (in this case good tasting food) or in some

cases doesn’t work (on the other hand, late meals,

wasted food and poor hygiene).

Lao Tsu says, “The successful leader is seldom seen or

heard, but when the job is finally accomplished, the

people say, “See we did it all ourselves.” I prefer

this type of leadership. It works when there is some

of the former crew along to show the way. However,

this time they are all new and the routine is

faltering.

My pep talk centered on being responsible for yourself

(cleaning up after yourself). And team work between

the watches and the cook(s) to keep the galley

uncluttered and with hot soapy water in the sinks.

Three of the girls, Cambria, Lori and Star, offered to

help make and post reminder notices to clean the stove

and mop the cabin sole after dinner etc. It all seemed

to go well enough, everyone was smiling at the end.

Becalmed 900 miles east of Cook Straits. By day 20 we

had been motoring for the past 30 hours through a calm

sea. Lori and Cambria announced it was time for a

party. Just after dark we shut off the engine, furled

all the sails and drifted in this gray foggy sea. A

case of beer was produced and a noisy card game got

started in the galley, however, by 2100 most of the

crew had gone to sleep. We put the watches on anchor

watch status and everyone got full nights sleep.

Since leaving Cook Strait we have been caught under

the same high-pressure cell. It changes shape and

intensity, but it is slowly moving with us across the

Pacific. The weather people say it is stationary. Some

times I feels like we are as well. We have had light

northerlies the past 3 weeks, now we are in the side

of the high that gives us southerlies. It’s nice to

have favorable winds for a change. We’ve set a couple

of square sails and are starting to make our way

north.

The 26th day of this passage and we are still south of

40 south. We have almost reached 155 degrees west, the

point where we should start making our way north. But

we have fresh northerlies and rough seas keeping us

from making any headway to the north. Gray skies, gray

seas and cold, humid weather. The sun came out for a

few hours about mid day yesterday; it was a real

treat. Everyone is holding on waiting for a wind

shift. We caught our 8th tuna yesterday, another Blue

Fin 80 centimeters long. After cleaning and filleting

the fish I have them save the rest of it so I can feed

the leftovers to the sea birds. The little Shearwaters

and Petrels learn to find the food first, then the

large albatrosses move in and take over.

Day 29 of our passage to Tahiti is Dogwatch day. Every

two weeks we break the afternoon watch into two parts

and thus set the watches back one 4-hour period. This

way everyone gets to try all the watches. We are also

in time zone 10 west, so we set the clocks ahead

one-hour tonight. After 5 days of rain and a 2-day

gale; we have our first sunny first full day of

sunshine in weeks. About half the crew did laundry

today; the lazy jacks are decorated with drying

clothing.

That high-pressure cell, that has had us pinned down

with northerlies for the past 3 weeks, has finally

wandered off to the east, (hooray hooray). Now we are

becalmed between a high and a low. There was a 4 meter

sea still running from the gale yesterday, without

much wind we were rolling around a lot. It wouldn’t

have done much good to try to motor into that size

swell anyway. Then in the afternoon, one of the Danes

brought out his copy of our itinerary and reminded me

we are supposed to be there by the first of June, so

we are motoring today.

Day 30 we have drifted together with a low we have

showers and a confused lumpy sea but there is a gentle

southerly breeze. Tahiti is 1240 miles to the north

and we are finally headed that way.

Day 33, the westerlies have returned to the Southwest

Pacific our third day of fair winds, we are sailing

north at the rate of a couple degrees a day. Each day

seems a little warmer. Now 1500 miles east of Auckland

we are entering an area of disappearing islands (Maria

Teresa no longer exists) and breakers (reported in

1837) in what should be deep water. Need to keep a

good lookout. Hans, one of our two Danes, was been

hibernating in his cabin for weeks. He occasionally

comes out of is cabin looking gaunt and solemn. He

says he needs sunshine and warm weather. I’ll have to

have a chat with him about how he’s feeling.

Day 38. I checked in with Pentacomstat a few days ago.

Told them we were 1200 miles south of Tahiti and gave

them an ETA of 7 June. Two days later we are set upon

by another northerly blow and we find ourselves

slogging away to the east through the rain and a gray

lumpy sea. That ETA I gave them is looking like

wishful thinking. This will be the longest passage I

have ever made. The previous record being 41 days.

Tahiti is still 900 miles to the north.

Day 44 of our passage to Tahiti. The Horse Latitudes.

I should have thought of that. They don’t call this

area by that name; there isn’t much traffic in this

part of the planet anyway. (We have seen 3 ships, a

container ship, a tanker and a long liner, since

leaving New Zealand.) However, it stands to reason

that between the Westerlies in the south and the

tropical trade winds, there would be an area in

between with light variables. And sure enough here we

are motoring for several days now. I checked in with

Pentacomstat and gave them a new ETA of 12 June, still

10 days and 560 miles away.

A couple days ago I had just come on deck after

logging our noon position and daily run. Everyone was

standing on the aft settee looking aft. Two hundred

meters off the starboard quarter a fin whale breached

the surface and blew. Judging from the width of the

back it looked like a big one. We shut down the engine

and began setting more sail. The whale stayed with us

for an hour and a half. Sounding, then surfacing and

coming almost close enough to touch. Comparing it to

the length of the jib boom, it would be 15 or 16

meters long.

Day 49. Just as I finished the previous paragraph a

sou’easterly breeze was puffing gently on the

starboard quarter, so, shut down the main engine and

set all 6 square sails. The peace and quiet was

wonderful. The fair breeze died away by mid afternoon.

We were ghosting along at a knot more or less, barely

enough wind to hold the course. I left the engine off

the rest of the afternoon and evening, expecting to

have to start it again when I got up for the midnight

watch. Woke up at 23:30 with the pleasant sound of

water sluicing along the side of the hull. After that

we had the four best days sailing of the whole passage

After spending the past month hobby horsing along at

2.7 knots we finally found a fair breeze sailing 5 to

6 knots with a ‘bone in her teeth’ on course and

headed for Tahiti. This new development tended to

generate lots of smiles among the crew.

I have sailed into Tahiti many times since the 1970’s,

but this is the first time I have made landfall from

the south. The view from the south is of volcanic

spires and cloud hidden peaks, a truly enchanting

view.

Still 10 miles off shore a fast tuna trolling boat

comes alongside to say hello. A couple of smiling

Tahitians come close along the starboard side and toss

a large Yellow Fin tuna on deck.

Day 51, 23:30 dropped the hook off the beach in

Papeete harbor. Being Saturday night we will have to

wait till Monday morning to clear in. We’ll be here

till the first part of next week.

We went to the dock of honor at Papeete to take on

fuel and water, then set sail for Moorea. After a

couple of days there we did the overnight sail to

Huahine. By the end of the week we were in Faaroa Bay

in Raiatea. It was a good time and place to have one

of our community PotLuck socials.

We are usually the largest boat in the anchorage and

can accommodate over a hundred people without getting

too crowded. We provide a hot bar-b-que, a couple of

salads and a large rum punch. The rule of thumb for

these events to bring twice as much as you expect to

eat and drink and arrive any time after sunset. We

arrange all the platters of food buffet style and

usually manage to assemble quite a feast.

This party was a good collection of yachties and

Tahitians from around the Bay. We traded a bottle of

gin for 5 stalks of bananas. Three guys with Ukulele’s

arrived in their outrigger canoe. The crew from a mega

yacht arrived with matching flower print shirts. There

was noise, laughter and song till after two in the

morning.

The next morning we set sail for Bora Bora, arriving

to anchor near the yacht club just before sunset. Not

long after dropping the hook a boatload of local guys

arrived with a case of beer. This impromptu party

lasted till midnight. With Bastille Day only 2 weeks

away there is much dancing and parties around town.

Our 5 days here was over too soon, but we set sail for

American Samoa on the 4th of July.

With 14 on the crew, it was a fun sail. We only had 3

good trade wind sailing days with over a hundred mile

runs, the rest of the time was light airs and calms.

We had to motor the last 3 days to get Dominic here in

time for his flight back to London.

Now anchored in Pago Pago, American Samoa, we will buy

food stores for the rest of the season. Tutuila is a

comparatively small island; traditional Samoan culture

is still strong here. The people are relaxed and

friendly.

Next stop will be Apia, Western Samoa, then to Vava’u,

Tonga.