This gallery contains 2 photos.
Musket Cove, Fiji A 360 degree sunset shot from the deck of Sel Citron. Nice.
This gallery contains 2 photos.
Musket Cove, Fiji A 360 degree sunset shot from the deck of Sel Citron. Nice.
Blue Lagoon, Yasawas, Fiji
By: Kerry
Bula from the Yasawa Islands: the long tail of islands trailing north from the western side of the big island of Fiji, Viti Levu.
While my family (sister Sandra and her hubby Dave; and my niece Lori and nephew Matt) were on board for a couple of weeks, we ventured further afield, sailing north from Denarau (on the west side of the big island, Viti Levu), through the chain of islands as far as the south side of Naviti in the Yasawas.
Our first night out, we stopped in Navadra, an arc of pristine golden sand with a pelt of palm trees and a large volcanic plug dominating one end. The snorkelling was fantastic, with lots of huge plate corals and unusual formations.
The perfect deserted tropical island, at last…well, almost.
There was only one other boat in the anchorage. OK, so it was Dragonfly*, the 73 metre (204 foot) super yacht owned by the ‘other’ Mr Google, which kind of dominated our sunset view. But they left at 0600 the following morning, and then we had it to ourselves…
We then headed up to the southern side of Naviti Island and anchored in view of the pass, which is renowned for attracting manta rays. When the tide’s running, they feed by swimming into the current funnelling through the channel, and filtering food in the manta version of eating on the run. It was an overcast afternoon, threatening the first rain we’d seen in months. The boys jumped in the dinghy and headed off fishing. As they left, Sandra and I pointed to the brewing storm clouds and said, “Don’t go so far that you lose sight of the boat.”
No sooner were they out of sight (duh!) than the heavens opened and it poured. Complete white out – we couldn’t see more than a few metres. Sandra, Lori and I got out the scrubbing brushes and cleaned the decks in the downpour. Just as we were finishing, the boys returned. Matt had landed his biggest catch ever:
So the storm blew through and we settled down for the night. At around 0300, Damian and I woke as the wind started to get up. By 0600 first light, it was blowing 25-30 knots, had swung around and we were now on a lee shore (i.e. with the reef right behind us, being blown onto it, save for our anchor holding us off). Luckily, we weren’t dragging our anchor, but the swell and chop was getting worse by the minute: we were about to be in the middle of a surf break.
The swells were starting to break around us, and the boat anchored next to us was burying its bow into the waves while it was still anchored. To add a degree of difficulty, one of our engines had decided to quit the day before (now repaired) so we had to try to get the anchor up using only one engine, which is a bit tricky to do on a catamaran. Anyway, as soon as we could see, we got the hell out of there, thankfully without any further drama, and headed back to the only other sheltered anchorage nearby, on the north side of Waya Island.
Lori had managed to get a good dose of sunburn the day before. On the crossing to Waya she emerged on deck, announcing she felt sick. Poor thing was so pale even her sunburn had turned grey! Fortunately it was only a short-ish hop and we were soon anchored in a sheltered bay beneath dramatic basalt outcrops.
There had been no warning of the bad weather from any of the numerous weather sources we monitor on a daily basis – and that’s not an uncommon thing. Together with the lack of, and distance between, sheltered anchorages, not to mention the numerous uncharted reefs, it makes navigating these islands pretty challenging. As Lionel on Kiapa says, “It’s why I have fallen in love with Mooring Ball #14 at Musket Cove.”
Continuing the unpredictable weather theme, we left next morning to head back to Musket Cove, but we rounded the headland and ran into 30 knot head winds and seas so rough we couldn’t distinguish the reefs from the cresting swells. It was clearly too dangerous to chance going all the way to MC so we put tail between legs and scuttled into the nearest anchorage on the west side of Waya and opted for movie afternoon onboard instead!
Unbelievably, the next day there was so little wind, we had to motor, almost gagging in the heat. We stopped at Monoriki Island, where the Tom Hanks movie, Castaway was filmed. The local resorts are geared up to bring punters there and then take them back to the resort to watch the movie, but we had coincidentally watched the film only recently and found it so appallingly awful we’d deleted it from our collection, so couldn’t check the details!
* Dragonfly bills itself as the fastest, ‘most economical’ super yacht afloat: it burns a mere 400 litres per hour. I guess ‘economical’ is a relative thing. As is speed. Our boat uses around 3 litres an hour and our top speed under power is around 10 knots. We tracked Dragonfly, going from zero to 17 knots in very short order. Top speed is 27 knots. If the idea of a super yacht holiday appeals, you and 11 of your besties can charter her for $773,000 per week. Or if you REALLY like the idea, the asking price last time it was for sale was $85 million. Bargain. It is a sexy looking beast, though.
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Musket Cove, Malolo Lailai, Fiji
By: Kerry
Since the end of August, we’ve been using Musket Cove as a base to explore the Mamanuca Islands and the southern Yasawas and enjoying quite a hectic social life, for the first time in forever!
There’s a constantly changing roll call of playmates as boats come and go. We’ve caught up with quite a few cruising buddies from last year and NZ, as well as meeting lots of new people.
Mornings start with yoga under the palm trees, led by our friend Lionel, from Kiapa. That’s followed by coffee and the hardest part of the day: deciding what to do next…
If it’s low tide, the sand bank at the entrance to the bay is exposed: a swathe of white sand, perfect for anything from weddings to kite surfing, so long as you can do it within an hour or two, before the tide comes back in.
(Here’s some photos that Damian took of Ray, Lionel and Irene’s friend from Perth, who clearly knows what he’s doing…)
A little further out, on the edge of the reef, is Cloud Nine, which takes the concept of a ’swim up bar’ to a new level. It’s essentially a two-storey pontoon, anchored on a sandy patch amidst the reef, with shady day beds, cocktails and smoothies and a wood-fired pizza oven. We take Sel Citron out and anchor just nearby, go for a snorkel on the coral reef and then go for a drink….
There’s another little island nearby, Namotu, which is close to the famous surf breaks (Cloudbreak, Restaurants, Wilkes and Swimming Pools) and is also a great kite surfing spot. We’ve been out there a few times and, on a couple of occasions, we’ve shared the anchorage with one or other of the Google founders’ two super yachts. ‘Senses’ is 50-odd-metres long, with a helicopter on the back and multiples of every water toy you can think of on board: kite boards, jet skis, surf boards, etc. It’s owned by Google founder, Larry Page and word had it that they booked out the whole of Namotu Island, which precluded any yachtie rabble landing on the island while they were in residence. But it didn’t mean we couldn’t anchor off and surf the same breaks, which goes to show, money can’t buy you everything!
Damian and I aren’t (board) surfers, but on a couple of occasions, our friend Irene shared a wave with Mrs Google and on another day we were out there, Layne Beachley was there – we think she may have been hanging out with the Googles as their tutor. Tough gig, huh?
We have also accompanied Irene to some of the local villages to conduct reading glasses clinics. Between Kiapa and us, we carried a number of boxes of reading glasses (just the standard +1.0, +1.5, +2.0 etc) to Fiji, that had been collected by the Lions Club in NZ. We usually get around a dozen to 20 people turning up to each ‘clinic’. Irene (whose initiative this project was) devised a rudimentary testing procedure: look at a page from a magazine and see which size type you can read. Then we match the person’s magazine-reading ability to a pair of reading glasses. Many villagers can’t afford specs, or their old pair has been broken or is no longer strong enough, so it’s fantastic to see people’s faces light up when they put on a pair of glasses and can see properly again – sometimes for the first time in years.
Every now and again (for about a nanosecond) I feel a bit guilty – like we’re copping out: we should be exploring more intrepidly, getting more involved with the local villages, going farther afield to less-visited cruising grounds. But after all we’ve been through in the last couple of years, it’s quite nice just to stay in a nice, safe anchorage, take it easy and have a ‘holiday’!
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Musket Cove, Malolo Lailai Island, Mamanucas, Fiji
By: Kerry
After all the navigational challenges and a few sleepless nights in windy anchorages, it was a bit of a relief to make it to Musket Cove, on Malolo Island off the west coat of Viti Levu, and to pick up a mooring rather than anchor. MC is a bit of a yachtie Mecca – lots of boats come here each year and just stay the whole season. Hard to argue with the idea: there are world-renowned surf breaks (Cloudbreak, for example) a dinghy-ride away; great kite surfing, snorkelling and diving nearby and for F$10 you can get life membership of the Musket Cove Yacht Club – the only requirement being that you must have sailed here from another country.
As a member, you have access to the Musket Cove Resort facilities: swimming pool, lovely outdoor island bar, free use of the BBQs; banana lounges, hot showers; restaurants – all very laid back and casual.
The other major attraction is the annual Musket Cove Regatta, now in its 30th year. It runs for a week and the emphasis is definitely on fun rather than serious racing, largely because most entrants (cruising yachties) are racing their homes and aren’t that keen on denting them.
‘Official’ events included Pirates Day, where everyone dressed as pirates, sailed (‘raced’) to nearby Beachcomber Island and drank loads of rum before sailing back again; Crazy Olympics (think blindfolded kayaking); and of course the ubiquitous wet t-shirt competition. I actually thought those went out with the eighties, but apparently not. In supposed ‘fairness’ to the girls, there was a hairy chest competition, but most of the hair was supported by beer bellies and middle-aged moobs. Eeeeew.
Of course, where there’s a yacht race, there’s an egotist and a local boat (i.e. not a home) got a bit carried away in the Round the Island Race and t-boned another boat (i.e. someone’s home) and put a sizeable hole in it. Fortunately, the damage was above the water line. We weren’t racing our ‘home’, but Damian was invited to sail as part of a boys-only crew on Kiapa – another 52-foot cat that’s light and fast and owned by friends of ours, Lionel and Irene. The egotist had already forced Lionel to do a radical gybe to avoid hitting either the egotist’s boat or the reef and Kiapa recovered just in time to see the dude pull the same stunt on the next tack…but this time collect the other boat. Pretty scary stuff.
Meanwhile, all the girls had a much more fun day: we booked out the spa, had massages and facials and a girlie lunch by the resort pool!
In other Regatta events, Irene and I were the only all-female crew to complete the Hobie cat race course: our heat was the last of the day when the wind was peaking and we had a wild old ride. (We didn’t make it to the next round, though…).
We had better luck in the Dress the Dinghy competition, but by general consensus, we was robbed: we dressed our dinghy up as the Vaka Vinaka (Vaka being a traditional canoe, and Vinaka meaning ‘thank you’) and dressed ourselves in grass skirts (Michelle, Irene and I, as well as Lionel and Ray) and even had a hula dance routine (see photos). But the ‘Kid Factor’ won the day: as a last minute entry, a bunch of cruiser kids threw their teddies out of the cot and into their dinghy and rowed away with first prize.
The last night was ‘Dress as anything starting with M’. Fancy dress is always a challenge when cruising, since you don’t tend to carry a lot of batman suits or belly dancing outfits on board – you just have to make do with what you have. Our whole motley crew (ten of us) went as M&Ms: we made cut out Ms and eyes from contact paper and stuck them on bright t-shirts (thanks to our friend and fellow-cruiser Laura for making the trip to Nadi for the tapa print fabric for the ‘vaka’ and the contact paper). We made it to the finals, but the competition was fierce: in the end, Mrs Doubtfire won, followed by Mahatma Gandhi and Freddy Mercury.
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Port Denarau, Viti Levu, Fiji
By: Kerry
We ended up spending around three weeks in Savusavu (where I last left off). It took us a week or so to recover from the trip up from NZ – and even longer to recover from the last eight gruelling months of boat sh*te! Plus we had (yet) another period of ‘enhanced trades’ that saw strong wind warnings for all Fiji waters. We’d initially planned to head out east, but as this was right into the teeth of the trades, the more attractive option was simply to stay put, hang out in the yacht-friendly town and just chill. A lot of other yachties had the same idea, and at one point there were around 80 boats in the anchorage!
Eventually giving up on heading east, from Savusavu we headed south to Namena – a tiny island with an even tinier, low-key resort, focused totally on diving. The surrounding reef was proclaimed a marine reserve in 1997 and so the fish and coral life is vibrant, abundant and simply spectacular. I did a drift dive (for more advanced divers) and then Damian came along for the next dive which was called The Chimneys: a series of rock pinnacles rising up from the sea floor to about five metres below the surface. During the dive, we swam in spirals around each pinnacle, working our way up and down the sheer sides, which were covered in floaty purple and white soft corals, lace and fan corals and all sorts of hard corals, all in pristine condition and vivid colours. In and around the corals there were hundreds and hundreds of fish, all competing for the most lurid body paint, while just off in the deeper water we saw massive dog tooth tunas, big hump head wrasse, barracudas and sharks cruising around.
Overall, it was one of the best dives I’ve ever done, but the decompression stop at the end was far and away the most magical dive experience I’ve had. We floated at five metres, suspended over the top of one of the pinnacles. The water was warn and crystal clear. Shafts of sunlight shone down through the water onto the coral garden that covered the top of the ‘Chimney’ (rock pinnacle). A dazzling diversity of corals in all shapes, sizes and eye-popping colours were crammed in together. Thousands of different, tiny technicolour fish surged and darted in and out of the corals and all around us and as the sun caught them, they’d shimmer and sparkle so that it was like being in the midst of an insect swarm or a cloud of Tinkerbell dust!
(Here are some pix I pulled off the interweb to give you an idea of what it was like).
The Namena Marine Reserve is home to more than 400 species of corals and over 1,100 fish species. We also saw octopus, a turtle and whole gardens of garden eels, which stick up out of the sandy sea floor like a patch of pale asparagus stalks. Above sea level, the island is home to around 400 pairs of nesting Red-footed Boobies. The youngsters are ridiculously curious and when we were snorkelling they’d come down and try to land on your head or in the water beside you. They are bloody big birds, so at first it’s a bit intimidating, but they’re so goofy you just end up laughing at them.
The only problem with Namena is that Damian is now totally spoilt for diving anywhere else…
We continued south, crossing to Makogai Island, which was a leper colony from 1911 until 1969. Around 4000 patients from all over the Pacific were treated on the island, some living there for decades, so the facilities – for patients, carers and administrators – were substantial. There are still a few buildings more or less intact around what is now a mariculture station and a few local houses.
Fijian tradition – and our Cruising Permit – decrees that, whenever we anchor near a village, we must ask permission from the Chief of the village to swim, dive, snorkel fish, etc in their waters, or to visit the village, go for a hike etc. The permission-seeking process is called sevu sevu and protocol involves going ashore as soon as possible after anchoring, armed with a bunch of dried kava root (known as yangona or grog) and presenting it to the Chief. There is then supposed to be a ritual of grinding up the root, mixing up the kava with water and passing coconut shell bowls of it around to be drunk by each individual, with ritual clapping from all involved. The kava is a narcotic that will send your tongue and lips numb and a really strong brew can knock you sideways if you drink enough of it. To me, it looks and tastes like a puddle, but it’s extremely rude to refuse a cup or not to drain it completely.
Once the ceremony is performed, we are officially welcomed into the village and we are then free to do or go wherever we want, and we will be treated like family. Conversely, if you don’t do sevu sevu, in a figurative sense, you don’t exist.
We did our first ‘sevu sevu’ at Makogai. Being a little unsure of the protocol and not wanting to offend, we figured we’d go for safety in numbers and went ashore with our friends Steve and Michelle, from the only other yellow catamaran we know, Citrus Tart. The Chief wasn’t around, so an old guy with one tooth sat us down cross legged on the ground, closed his eyes and said a few words in Fijian, clapped three times, said ‘welcome’ and that was it. Then he took our bunches of grog and tossed them onto the verandah of the nearest building.
So much for tradition.
That didn’t mean the locals weren’t friendly or helpful, though. The old guy then proudly took us on a really interesting tour of the remaining buildings from the leper colony days. The locals are slowly recovering the old graveyard from the tangle of vines that has engulfed it and are restoring some of the lovely old houses, churches, and other official buildings. We took a walk around the coastline and along the way, there were numerous buildings, now hidden deep in forest, in varying states of decay. The fascinating thing was that none of the buildings on the island were built as ‘temporary’ structures: the houses had lovely carved wooden details; there were the crumbling remains of a huge concrete structure that turned out to be a cinema; and we found the remains of a jail with around eight separate cells. The isolated island was more of a fully-fledged colonial outpost than anywhere else outside Suva!
We did the last hop to the big island of Fiji – Viti Levu – and worked our way around the north coast, inside the reef. This is the official shipping route, since the strong currents and winds funnelling through Bligh Water (the waterway between the two main islands of Fiji) make for treacherous conditions outside the reef. In fact, inside the reef is just the lesser of two evils: there are reefs and bommies strewn everywhere and, like just about everywhere else in Fiji, our charts (even the electronic ones) are so inaccurate as to be largely works of art rather than fact.
The first rule of navigation here is to only travel between 9 am and 4 pm, when the sun is high in the sky and, with someone stationed on the bow of the boat, you can spot the reefs. Thank the goddess for Google Earth! Apart from actually eyeballing the route from the bow, our main navigational aid has become a Russian computer app that allows us to see our position and track on Google Earth satellite images, which clearly – and accurately – show all the reefs and shallows.
Except when there was a cloud in the way on the day the Google Earth photo was taken…!
The inside passage is narrow, with lots of twists and turns and you have to be vigilant all the time. We have heard of so many boats hitting reefs that we are super careful and so far, so good. But that didn’t mean we couldn’t trail a line – and Damian hooked a fantastic Spanish Mackerel (my favourite fish to eat) which we reckon weighed around 15kg. We had sushi, ceviche, BBQ, fish burgers, another BBQ, Kokoda (raw fish in coconut milk), another BBQ… and still we have a freezer full!
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Savusavu, Vanua Levu, Fiji
By: Kerry
We made it. Arrived in Savusavu, on the south coast of Fiji’s second-largest Island, Vanua Levu, at 2.15pm on Monday, seven days and two hours after leaving Marsden Cove.
Naturally – for us – it wasn’t the boring passage predicted…
Instead, Bruce Buckley, our weather guru, (who is also the official weather man for the Australian Olympic sailing team), has offered us a job in Rio as wind finders. He reckons we can find and hang on to wind better than anyone he knows. We send him twice-daily position reports and he tells us what to expect, weather-wise. Throughout the voyage, we managed to consistently find 40 knots where there was supposed to be 10.
We had an easy enough start, but quickly found ourselves in our very own ‘squash zone’ between a low and a high pressure system. We had 40 knots plus (75kph) for two days straight, with the top gust reaching 58.1 knots.
The wind finally dropped and we were able to put up our new gennaker – basically a really big headsail, a cross between a genoa and a spinnaker, to be used in lighter winds. It didn’t stay up for long….
I was on watch and Damian was asleep when I saw the gennaker furling drum, still attached to the bottom of the sail, go flying past the saloon window.
This is not a good thing: it is supposed to stay firmly tethered to the bow. I yelled for Damian to wake up, ran out on deck and managed to crash tackle the furling drum (with full, 125 square-metre billowing sail attached) as it wrapped itself around the cap shroud for the second time. By then D was on deck and we managed to lower the halyard and wrangle the sail to the deck.
But in the process of this, the aft-led sheet managed to hook itself over the helm station and under the windlass rocker switch, setting off the windlass. We didn’t immediately realise why the anchor chain was paying out, and buggered a winch handle trying to stop it before D dived for the breaker – by which time we had 40 metres of anchor chain dragging below the boat (luckily we’d lashed the anchor, so just chain).
You couldn’t make this s**t up, really, could you???
Turns out the shackle that attached the furling drum to the prod (bowsprit) gave way – it’s a massive shackle and it’s bent sideways and the pin eye is stretched – ie massive load (see photos, attached). We think it was because it was the wrong shackle for the job (supplied by the rigger). We think it slipped and became point-loaded and eventually gave way. The sail had only been up for about 8 hours at that stage. The furling drum itself is bent, and there’s also some cosmetic damage. Hopefully no damage to the sail – we didn’t see any as we were trying to flake/roll all 125 square, heavy, spectra metres of it – still with luff cable in sleeve – and lash it to the rail…
To cap it off, we then noticed that the first reef leech line had chafed completely through the cover of the rope – again in only about 12 hours. This is clearly due to a design fault with the new mast base – we’ve had on-going issues and various modifications so far.
So much for installing the bullet proof rig to restore our confidence in off-shore sailing! As you can imagine, neither of us slept much that night as the wind peaked at 48 knots and we anxiously worried what was giong to break next!
So there we were, 650nm from Savusavu with no number one reef and no gennaker, hoping to outrun the worst of the monster low that was making it’s way across the SW Pacific.
We’d hoped for an incident-free trip, but didn’t really manage even an incident-free day! The wind picked up again and it was hard sailing most of the way – only one day of light winds in the whole trip. We had a few other things go bang or bent – not surprising given the conditions – but nothing major and no injuries.
We did manage to outrun the worst of the massive low pressure system that swept across the Tasman with gale force winds – though we did still get the edge of it on the last couple of days.
Suffice to say, we were VERY glad to get here!
We haven’t done much yet – still feeling pretty weary – but from what we’ve seen so far, Savusavu is a quirky little town. Really just a main street along the waterfront, which is the mouth of a creek. There are probably 25-30 yachts crowded in here, as it’s the preferred point of entry for anyone coming in from Tonga and the west, or from NZ. Our new yellow is standing out like the proverbial – the Fijians love it and all we have spoken to have exclaimed how we’re brightening up the anchorage. Nice to be able to provide a community service!
We haven’t really firmed up plans at this point, but will probably head out to the east first of all. It’s been raining since we got here, so we’re looking forward to some sunshine! At least it’s WARM rain!
Sorry if this sounds a bit monotonous or confusing – my brain is still fried!
For the sailing tragics, I’ve outlined the trip in a bit more detail, below.
Day 1: SE 20-25K, broad reaching with main and genoa in reasonable seas. Noice.
Day 2: SE 25-35 gusting 50 in squalls. Top TWS: 52k. Broad reaching 2 reefs in both main and genoa, running off when necessary. 199.38nm for the first 24 hours
Day 3: Hit 58.1k TWS overnight. 25-35k SSE throughout the day, gusting 45. Mostly averaging 8.5 knots boat speed, but having to slow down now and then when it got too scary. Still broad reaching, trying to head further north. 199nm for second 24 hours. Apparently, all around us the winds are far less – we have found our very own convergence zone. Decks still dry at this stage.
Day 4: Gybed at 0130 as wind went due S and dropped to 13-18k. Put up gennaker, but not for long… After cleaning up the mess, continued with genoa and full main. Wind SW built to 20-25, gusting 35k. Bruce Buckley offered us a job as wind finders with the Australian Olympic team: “…you can pick up stronger winds than anyone else I know!”. 186nm for 24 hours (including an hour or two of going nowhere while we got the gennaker furler and sail under control).
Day 5: Luckily, we put a second reef in before dark last night. Wind built to 30-35, with periods 40-45. By mid-morning, it was down to 10-12k WSW, then dropped altogether. Motor-sailed through the day, trying to get as far north as quickly as possible, and a bit west of rhumb line ahead of NW winds. 170.3nm for 24hrs.
Day 6: Motor-sailed through the night, with wind turning N and 20-25k on the nose by midnight – slowed to about 6 knots. By midday, close reaching on port tack with 25-30k, gusting 40k. Three reefs in main, two in genoa. Seas rising. Winds 30-35 by evening. Decks a bit damp now… 165nm for 24 hrs.
Day 7: Overnight 25-35k, with apparent getting up near 50K at times. Sick of it, so furled genoa and turned on starboard engine – slow, but much better on the nerves at this point! Approx 160nm for 24 hours.
Day 8: Put the pedal to the metal to get in to Savusavu in time to clear Customs. Motored at 7.5k (2500rpm). 172nm for 24 hours. Arrived Savusavu 14:15hrs – 7 days, 2 hours. 1252.31 nautical miles at average 7.32 knots.
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Marsden Cove, New Zealand.
By: Kerry
Man, it’s been a long time coming, but we’re finally leaving tomorrow for Fiji!
Since the last email, when we just launched, we’ve had further ‘issues’ – including having to be hauled out of the water again because the boatyard hadn’t installed a through-hull fitting properly. The name says it all: ’through hull’. Fairly critical that it’s water tight. But its lack of watertightness didn’t become apparent until Damian tried to fit a pipe to it and the whole thing twisted…Better to find it then than later, but it meant motoring back up the river and yet another week lost.
We finally did our second sail trials last Monday and that all went swimmingly.
We’d have liked to do a more substantial shake-down cruise before we left, but the weather has been atrocious. In fact, it’s been so bad, we’ve effectively done our shakedown while tied to the dock!
We got back in from sailing around 4pm on Monday and by later that evening it was blowing 50 knots. It got worse… and worse… and blew a full hurricane all week. Worst storm in living memory, apparently. The wind topped out at 76.5 knots but that wasn’t just a one-off – it was in the 70s fairly frequently and in the 60s fairly consistently for four days straight. We were – literally – pinned to the dock. Made working on the boat – not to mention doing the provisioning – pretty interesting.
I drove into town on Thursday to do all the provisioning (been holding off, waiting to be sure we’re going, so had to do four months’ worth of food shopping in one day, in a full hurricane). On the way into town, there were waves (white caps) on the flooded fields; I saw a man standing in a puddle up to his neck, and the state highway was a slalom of huge pot-holes.
Anyway, we’re finally sorted and we’re heading off tomorrow for Savusavu in Fiji – on the south coast of Vanua Levu, the second-largest island. We haven’t had time to do any research on what to see or where to go, but we’ll figure it out and I reckon we’ll find somewhere nice to hang out for a while! Can’t be that hard, right?
We’ve had the forecast from our weather guru, Bruce Buckley and he reckons we should have a nice, boring trip – perfect!! We’ve had enough exciting passages to last us for a while!
Weather depending, we should take around 7 days – it’s 1200 nautical miles as the crow flies, but of course, that’s not how sailing works, but we’re hoping to average around 180-200 miles a day. A 747 sounds pretty tempting, doesn’t it?
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Urquharts Bay, New Zealand
By: Kerry
At last! It’s been six loooooong months, but on Friday we finally had splashdown. Yes, it was Friday (sailors’ lore: never leave port on a Friday) AND it was the 13th, so considering our luck, we were probably pushing it, but it was also a full moon – and the last time June 13 fell on both a Friday and a full moon was 1909 or something, and the next one is 2049, so an auspicious day after all.
Do I sound a tad desperate???
We have had so many hurdles, high jumps and other obstacles to negotiate, we were beginning to think we’d never float again. Anyway, everything went smoothly and we’re now anchored in Urquharts Bay – just near the bach we rented. That seems like a lifetime ago!
Sel Citron is looking like new, with new paintwork all over (topsides, decks and anti foul); new mast, standing and running rigging; new window screens, signage, solar panels (we can now run a small town with our solar bank); new forebeam, trampolines and lifelines… We’ve done a huge amount of work on the outside of the boat, which is matched on the inside: Damian has spent weeks (literally) running new cabling for new navigation instruments, engine controls and lighting. We have new electric toilets (as opposed to the pump variety we had before); new ceiling panels and – best of all – new upholstery in the saloon! I can finally throw out the horrid covers that were on the couch when we bought the boat.
In keeping with the subtle exterior, the new couch is burnt orange. I have just finished sewing all the new scatter cushions, so it’s all looking very groovy.
It’s been an incredibly frustrating time, with many, many long hours (we haven’t had a day off since Damian’s birthday back in March) and too many setbacks to count, but hopefully we’re now nearly there. We are still waiting on sails, which are ready, but the sailmakers won’t release them until they’re paid for (strangely enough) and we are waiting on the $$$ from the insurance company.
We’re now at the argy-bargey stage with the insurers – there’s already been some back and forth and now Mike, our loss adjuster whose recommendation is what is supposed to guide the insurers’ decision (they are UK-based), has gone on holidays for a month so can’t answer any of the insurance company’s questions…
We are hoping that it all gets resolved this week, and we get our sails. The plan from here is to do some sea trials and – assuming everything works – head to Fiji as soon as we can. Like I said in an earlier email, I’m not doing another Kiwi winter – and it’s already mid-June!
So please keep all fingers and toes crossed for us and hopefully we’ll be tropics-bound very soon!
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Whangarei, New Zealand
By: Kerry
So…. 2012, 2013 birthdays were ‘special’ in their own way, but in 2014 my special day started in the boatyard to the sound of Toni Minitankers pulling up alongside. In the freezing cold, I held a greasy diesel hose while we filled the tanks. Other highlights of the day included shuttling buckets of bilge water as we emptied our hot water tanks ahead of replacing the pressure valves, and helping to heave our new mainsail on board. A stellar glamour day, really!!
But on the up-side, I did receive a few large parcels: a new mainsail, two new trampolines and our newly upholstered saloon sofa cushions in a slightly-more-startling-than-expected orange. They look great, very bright!!
Not quite diamond baubles*, but all steps towards getting back on the water SOON!
I was reeeeeaaally hoping my birthday would happen afloat, but alas… We were due to go in on Friday (after every other deadline has whooshed on by), but the weather has turned to poo, and we are still un-anti-fouled, so it’s now looking like Monday. (I am trying hard not to say, ‘I told you so’ since I pushed to do the anti-fouling last week in the beautiful weather, but was overruled). We are still holding out a glimmer of hope for Fiji – will have to see what adventures await once we are afloat. We’ve been out of the water for six months, so not really expecting everything to still work…. Fingers crossed!!!!
Damian took me out for a lovely dinner at Top Sail, over at the Onerahi Yacht Club – lovely meal with a glass of delicious NZ spark and a bottle of lovely NZ Syrah. So all good on the alcohol front this year!
* Baubles arrived a few days late, in the shape of a pair of beautiful earrings – aren’t I spoilt!
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