Posted by John
So we left New Zealand wrapped up in multiple layers of fleece, hats and gloves. We had decided we would leave when the weather looked right. We were not alone in our thinking. There were several other boats also looking for an opening.
We had been comparing weather notes almost daily with Anna Caroline, a boat from The Netherlands, that was moored just a few slips away. We were all looking at the weather models for a good five days out, and especially for agreement between the European and American versions. Not only were the outputs quite different between the two, but they would seem to change daily. Our Dutch friends told us more than once that they would be leaving in the morning, only to stop by later to say that they weren’t. It was like that for a few days: go, no go; up and down; not sure if maybe some seasonal weather window had closed. We even checked in with the local Customs officer to make sure our questionable immigration status wouldn’t cause a problem when it was time to go. He assured us that it “looked like” we had done all the right things. But also, we knew, he was Customs, not Immigration.
Then a window appeared to open. We decided to leave the next day, on a Monday. Anna Caroline said they were going to leave on Tuesday. They came back later to say they had decided to leave on Monday as well. The next day they departed for New Caledonia, and we left for Fiji.
Trying to take advantage of the southerly winds between a departing low pressure system and the next approaching high following it, the first night was on the rough side. The wind itself wasn’t too bad, but the swells from the passing storm were quite uncomfortable.
If something bad is going to happen, invariably it will be when it’s rough, and in the middle of the night. We had a randomly beeping alarm of unknown origin. It is my opinion that alarm manufacturers must all use the same tiny electronic beepers made by the same Chinese company. They all sound alike. We finally found the aft cabin carbon monoxide detector, with expired batteries, to be the source of the annoying beeps. A fresh set of double A’s silenced it.
We had a couple of squally days with lightning, rain showers and shifting winds before developing a new problem of a very different nature: almost dead calm. We started the engine and motored continuously for what seemed like days and days. Stuck in a high pressure system, we burned all but our most essential of fuel reserves. We droned on and on inside of a big blue bubble encompassing all we could see. We were on an ocean treadmill. Going, but perhaps going nowhere, it seemed. The GPS told us we were moving, but we could see no difference in scenery from day to day. At night, however, the Milky Way was spectacular, startling in its unexpected brightness.
Finally, satisfied that we were far enough north to not be bothered by the storm now affecting New Zealand, we shut off the engine and sailed, albeit slowly, across the Tropic of Capricorn. The hats, gloves and multiple layers had all come off by now, the sun rose sooner and set later, and the days turned into a frustration of, “Are we there yet?”
However, all was not carefree. Still a little gun-shy from our last outing, we noticed new creaks and noises in the boat. We had a nagging question as to why the wheel had to be turned forty-five degrees to the left in order for the boat to steer straight. And although the engine itself seemed normal, we had a new, definite vibration somewhere in the prop shaft or transmission. We can’t help but think that we have an old boat, and we’ve beat it up pretty good over the last two years. It’s frustrating when every day seems to bring a new problem or concern, and easy to dwell on them during endless hours of darkness, at night, in the middle ocean.
After 1,050 nautical miles, we entered Naula Pass and into the calm water behind the reef. We anchored in Momi Bay, on the Fijian island of Viti Levu. It was Saturday night, nearly two weeks after leaving New Zealand. On Monday morning, at the very first lightening of the sky, we raised the anchor and motored the 15 miles to Vuda Point to begin the day-long process of getting through Bio-Security, Customs, Health and Immigration before being squeezed into the odd (by our standards), circular marina.
