For the first twenty four hours out from Vanuatu, the skipper did not cover himself in glory.
We went into Luganville early on Monday, June 24th, to clearout. The process turned out to be quite frustrating. Even though clearing into Vanuatu is moderately expensive, we were asked for a further US$100 ('port fees') to be allowed to leave. The amount was less of a problem than having to pay in cash, which meant leaving the office to get back into town to visit an ATM. But, by 14.30, we had visited three separate offices, completed the formalities, bought provisions and were ready to go.
In the days prior to departure, I had used Predictwind to assess whether it would be better to go north or south around Santo. I had chosen the northern route, based on wind shadow from the island and hours motoring. After the time lost clearing out, I was keen to leave and did not check the forecast again, just before departure. Big mistake!
Initially, things went well. Indeed, we could sail after just one hour motoring. Ru commented, "Someone will think we have stolen something, we were leaving in such a hurry". Unfortunately, by 18.00 the wind started going round in circles, and I knew something was wrong. The latest forecast showed CAPE numbers in the 1200 -1400 range (which usually means lightning). We found ourselves in the middle of lots of active cells (storm clouds), and we had to motor sail, dodging lightning, until 04.00 in the morning. One time, there was a huge strike less than two miles away. When dawn finally broke, and Skyfall had been left unscathed, I felt really lucky. Close call #1.
The next morning our priority was to catch up on much needed sleep. Unfortunately, lack of concentration caused us to sail too far west, rather than sailing NW, and we ran out of wind in the shadow of the island. Actually, I was surprised the shadow extended 50nm away from the island.
There was nothing for it but to motor north for a couple of hours. We found the SE trades around 16.00. In ten minutes, the wind built from nothing to 18-20 knots gusting 25. Soon, we were averaging 7.5 knots with two reefs in the main, sailing wing-on-wing. With the waves continuing to build (3m+), we switched to the twin headsail set up. Immediately, the autopilot was happier, needing only half the rudder angle to keep the boat sailing downwind. That helped power consumption and made for a more relaxing sail (see top photo).
We celebrated with steaks for dinner. We had found a proper butcher in Luganville. Ru had showed off his farming background by being very particular over which steaks we bought. And it paid off. A great meal.
John Martin, our weather router, guides us by offering 'Aim Points'. Following them should keep us in favourable weather. But the responsibility for safe navigation always lies with the skipper. On the second day, we received an Aim Point which turned out to be almost on top of Rennell reef. I loaded it into the chart plotter on too small a magnification and did not see the reef. Usually I scan our track on large magnification two-three times a day to catch mistakes like this. But, for some reason, on the 26th I did not do this. Only early on the 27th did I check.
My blood ran cold when, just a few miles ahead of us, our track was passing within 5nm of a deadly reef. Yes, I caught it before we got there. Yes, our track actually missed the reef. And yes, we might have seen it. But, for the same money, we could have been moving just a bit faster so that my check came too late, and 5nm is nothing in a large ocean. I regard this as the closest I have come to losing Skyfall (so far). Close call #2
Fellow cruisers are a great source of information when researching future passages. Someone once described this passage to me as 'big boy' sailing. Nothing particularly difficult but with strong winds and uncomfortable waves. The 3m+ waves, with a short period, meant it was certainly living up to its name. Generally, working in the galley was difficult. Having prepared food the next evening, I had just served the pasta into two bowls when we took a particularly big wave. Both bowls went flying. I managed to grab one (Ru's portion), but I had to eat my dinner off the galley floor. I was clearly not a 'big boy' yet!
The next day, a bottle of olive oil escaped Ru's clutches and half the contents were distributed across two mats. I came below to find Ru diligently washing and rinsing the mats. He was getting frustrated that the rinsing was not helping much. One mat seemed to have an endless supply of washing up liquid in it. Why? Denise had had a similar experience with a bottle of washing up liquid two weeks earlier. Her cleanup was rather cursory, wiping away the excess on the surface. Ru was now dealing with what had soaked in. The other mat did not have the soap bubbles problem. But the colour of the water remained black after every rinse. Could olive oil make it so dirty? I refrained from letting on when the mats were last washed!
Until the fourth night, we had not seen one single vessel, either visually or on AIS. However, around 02.00 Ru woke me to say there was something large coming up behind us and asked what he should do. It was a 200m cargo vessel, heading straight for us at 15 knots with impact in 15 minutes!
I quickly radioed them to check they had seen us. A few seconds delay (whilst the officer in charge woke up and went to look at his radar/AIS) and he informed me he would alter course to starboard to pass behind me.
For an eternity nothing happened, presumably whilst he got permission. Then the ship started turning. Actually, they were passing slightly to port. So, as the turn progressed, they initially came directly towards us. The ship was only 1 nm away and bearing down on us. But the turn continued, and they passed under our stern about 400m behind us. Close call #3
Around lunchtime the next day, we noticed a vessel coming up behind us. Touching the icon on the screen revealed the name, 'Cool Racer'.It was doing 15 knots so I imagined some racy yacht or catamaran, probably sailed by a Frenchman. And with a name like that, you might expect the boat to be adorned with 'go faster' stripes. To our disappointment, with another click we discovered that it was an oil tanker. And it would have taken a lot of paint to add go faster stripes - it was 270m long!
That evening, we welcomed an extra passenger aboard just before dusk. It must have been a teenage seabird because it just got up and left the next morning, leaving quite a mess in its lodgings. I like to think it grunted something monosyllabic as it bolted, but that is probably a bit of a stretch.
The last night before Port Moresby was truly wild. That day, the wind had been much less than predicted, and I started to believe the infamous 'acceleration zone' off Hood Point, about 50 miles short of Port Moresby, would not live up to its name. I was wrong. The wind increased quickly around 19.00. We were set up for 22knots gusting 26, so there was no drama. But I sensed that more was to come. So we shortened sail. Again, we were prepared when, around 2200, the wind was up to 26 gusting 30. But, being prudent, I woke Ru, and we really shortened sail. By 2300 we had over 30 knots with prolonged gusts of 35 knots.
The twin head sail setup, with two hankerchiefs of sail showing, worked so well. But we had a problem. Once past Hood Point, we needed to alter course and sail closer to the wind. The twin headsails (for when wind is behind you) would not work. Cue some foredeck work in the dark in 30 knots! Having got rid of the twin headsail, with the single genoa we could then happily broad reach the final miles into Port Moresby.
We only stayed in Port Moresby for three nights. The main motivation for stopping was to fill up with water and diesel as we had been warned about the quality of both in Indonesia. There was the bonus of a big, modern supermarket (Waterfront Foodworld) within walking distance of the marina. However, Papua New Guinea has increasingly severe economic problems and it is not safe to leave the marina after dark. Consequently, on July 5th, we cleared out and were on our way again.
On this next leg, the second part of our passage, we would say goodbye to the Pacific and transition to the Indian Ocean (Arafura Sea to be exact). This requires negotiating the 'Coral sea' and the Torres Strait which include the Great Barrier reef (GBR) and multiple others. Here, even Captain Cook ended up on a reef and almost lost his ship. We chose the route with the easiest navigation. We went quite far north, over the top of the GBR and entered the Torres Straight via Bligh passage (of Mutiny on the Bounty fame). We decided to stick to the shipping lane as it was well marked and well charted.
The strong currents in the narrow bit around Thursday island were of concern. Currents are highly variable and strong (up to 4 knots). With strong winds, a wind against tide situation would make dangerous standing waves in the Prince of Wales Channel. I invested in Predictwind Pro software to do all the calculations and to determine our 'window' to pass through. Armed with this information, we would try to regulate Skyfall's speed to arrive at the right time.
From the Port Moresby marina there is a beat upwind to the gap in the reef. So we started sailing with the (heavily reefed) mainsail. We kept the mainsail up for the first hour in open water as we were reaching into deeper water and it was initially quite rolly (the mainsail helps to stabalise the boat). But one hour out, with gusts over thirty knots, we dropped the main and continued under genoa only. We would not use the mainsail again before Tual.
The two days out of Port Moresby were the most intense sailing I have had for a long time. We had to;
take care to avoid lightning the first night
sail in big winds (30knots+) and big seas (steep 4m+)
complete a night passage through coral without hitting any (admittedly in a shipping lane)
navigate a shipping lane and miss all the ships
ensure our timing was right for the currents around Thursday Island.
But it all went according to plan and, just after lunch on the 7th, we were clear of the Torres Strait and the winds started to moderate. I find it ironic that our three 'close calls' were on the first, easier section of the passage and that the potentially much more dangerous bit, through the Torres Strait, passed without serious incident (although not without some stress).
Having exited the strait, we were into the final section of the trip. My priority was sleep. Ru held the fort as I slumbered from 13.30 until 16.30. It was much needed. The next couple of days were so relaxing: minimal waves, winds moderating to under 30 knots, and no obstacles to hit. Actually, there are a fair number of big ships around, but with an open ocean, they are always at least 5 nm away.
The route was planned to keep us far enough south to avoid the plethora of Indonesian fishing boats (with no AIS and, often, no lights!) We headed west some way before turning WNW, then NW for Tual. Once we had made the turn to sail NW, and had the wind behind us, we were able to set up the twin head sails again.
On the last night I decided to deviate from the recommended route and 'cut the corner', turning NNW about ten miles before the Aim Point. My motivation was to win time and to ensure we got into port before dark the next day. Result: at teatime we started three hours of 'dodge the fishing boat'. I have, honestly, never seen anything like it.
We only interacted with the SW corner of the fleet, but I counted at least 50 boats.Only about half had AIS but, fortunately, they were lit up like Christmas trees. They use powerful banks of lights to attract the fish. I turned on my foredeck light so they saw me and there was no real issue.
We dropped anchor around 15.00 on July 11th. We had covered 2300nm with 13 days sailing. After being worried about being late for the rally, we were actually the first boat there. We cleared in on the 12th. After the hectic rushing through Fiji and Vanuatu and the drama of this passage, it was time for a change of pace. Time to relax a little. Time to explore. Time to enjoy Indonesia!
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