New Zealand! We Made It!
Thursday, November 11th – It is decided. We are leaving today. The weather window has finally opened, and we should have enough wind. We could not leave earlier because it was too calm out there on the ocean, and we would have had to motor most of the way. Not only is that not a lot of fun, we cannot carry enough fuel on Avante to motor 1100nm. The forecast now is for good winds for the first 3 or 4 days, but these winds are to drop as the remainder of a front passes. We all could end up motoring the last miles into New Zealand. How many miles those last miles will be remains to be seen, but the more miles we can get behind us before the winds die, the less we will have to motor.
Many of the other boats have left by the time we on Avante pull anchor. The Captain, for once, appears to be in no hurry. We are not supposed to have much wind until the afternoon. We spend the morning doing last minute activities on Avante and then head ashore to check the internet and the weather one more time before saying good bye to Big Mama and staff. We haul up the anchor at 1135.
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Sheryl and John and their son on Sea Mist, an Oyster 56, are going to be leaving shortly, too. Of all the boats leaving today, they are one of the few who might keep pace with Avante. The First Mate is somewhat unnerved about this. She likes the idea of another boat out there with us, but she does not like the idea of another boat out there racing us or, more correctly, racing with us. Being the Type-A Personalities that both captains on these two boats are, it will be a race. The First Mate did not sign up for racing. She is worried.
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Passing an inbound freighter, we motor out the harbor and into the main channel. We try to sail, but speed quickly drops below 4 knots, so we continue to motor toward Egeria Channel. Once clear of the reefs and out in the sea, we turn into the wind and raise sail. Our friends, Marion and David on Kilkea, who are just ahead of us, have also put up their sails. Looking back, we soon see Sea Mist doing the same thing. The race to New Zealand is on!
As we watch them, something does not look right with Sea Mist. She is slowing down and changing direction. They radio that some stitching in the jib sail had come undone. Lacking another workable sail, they decide to return to Nuku’alofa to see if they can get it sewn. The Captain of Avante is disappointed. The Captain of Sea Mist is disappointed and mad. The First Mate of Avante, in retrospect, is disappointed. It would have been nice to have another boat within sight on a passage, and maybe, just maybe, the challenge of a race would have been interesting. Sea Mist could not get any repairs made to their jib but were able to borrow a sail and headed out two days later.
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By 1330 we are under sail in 10 – 12 knot winds from the SE, as we sail down the west coast of the island. When we clear the bottom of the island, winds increase to 18 knots from ESE, and we are able to sail the rhumbline on a port tack. Skies are a bright blue, and though the seas are a bit rough, we enjoy a great afternoon of sailing averaging 8.5 knots.
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It is amazing how, like a bunch of ants leaving a hole in the ground all quickly spreading out in all directions, boats leaving the same channel very rapidly take to the open sea at different angles appearing to be heading to many points of the compass. Since we are all headed to the North Island of New Zealand, we are all on the same rhumbline. One might think that we should all be relatively lined up, but that is not the case. Very quickly boats disappear in different directions over the horizon. Right now, we can see several boats out there ahead of us. Those that left several hours ahead of us are no longer in sight. The Captain is not really racing them, but the challenge is there is see what he and his J/160 can do.
1730 – Captain’s Log:“Pass 3 boats on starboard side. Nice to see other boats on a passage.”
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1900 – The Captain alters course to allow us to slow down for dinner preparation so that The First Mate is not bounced off the hot stove. As evening approaches, The Captain decides not to put in a reef, as we would normally do on such a passage. Winds are supposed to drop somewhat tonight, and he wants to make the most of these winds while they last.
2200 – Winds do not decrease. Instead they have increased to 18 – 22 knots and so has The First Mate’s anxiety. We have never sailed at night under full sail in winds this high. It is not so much the wind velocity as it is that we do not want anyone to have to leave the cockpit at night unless absolutely necessary, and on a short-handed boat like we are, this is especially important. To put in a reef on our boat, one has to leave the cockpit to make the initial attachments up at the mast. In high winds, in pitching seas and in the dark of night, it is not an easy task, and one we have always taken measures to prevent. Why now is The Captain ignoring our usual routine? The First Mate is not happy.
2300 – Captain’s Log: “Pass another boat on starboard side.”
Friday, November 12th – 0133 – Captain’s Log: “Pass boat on port side. Winds down to 13 – 17 kts ESE. Ride a little calmer and SOG averaging 8 kts.”
By dawn, winds are back toward 22 knots. They remain variable throughout the morning. It continues grey and overcast. We are making good time, but it is a rough ride. The First Mate is on edge, but The Captain maintains that according to the GRIB charts, the winds are soon to be dropping. “We have to make good on these winds,” he says. “And keep on passing every boat in sight,” she thinks. But there are no more boats to pass. Avante is now in the lead.
0730 – Our little group of boats leaving Big Mama’s decided to join the “Penguin Net”. At an established time, once-a-day, sometimes twice-a-day, we all get on our radios. One person manages the net. Roll call of all registered boats is taken, boat position, status and current weather conditions are given. Questions are answered, problems dealt with as best as possible. These nets go on all across the Pacific, but this is the first time we have made a passage with a group of boats and have participated. It should be fun and interesting. The First Mate is looking forward to the companionship of other boats, but the first morning out, we cannot connect. We can receive, but we are not able to transmit. At least, we can hear comments from other boats, even if they think we have dropped off the other side of the ocean!
1100 – Captain’s Log: “Winds dropping a little, consistent with GRIB charts.” The Captain is vindicated.
1230 – The First Mate is on watch and definitely not happy. Winds have recently increased to the 25 – 30 knot range. Even though she has been mentioning that we ought to put in a first reef, her requests have gone unheeded. There is a maxim amongst sailors: “Reef early. Reef often”. No one wants to be caught in a howling wind under full sail fighting boat, wind, ocean and flapping sails. It’s just no fun and not safe. Racing boats ignore that maxim and push the edge. That’s their job if they want to win. Cruisers do not need to do so. It’s not worth a blown-out sail or the safety of boat and crew. We have our own little guideline on Avante. When the winds start clocking in and staying at 20 knots and over, we put in the first reef. When they do the same at 25 knots, we put in the second reef. Here we are over 25 knots, and we are still under full sail. The First Mate looks ahead. The sky is getting darker. Dropping winds or not, at the very least we have a squall approaching. This time she does not request, she wakes The Captain and demands that we put in the first reef.
As we are doing so, fighting wind and sea, the rains hit, pelting down on us. Standing there fighting with the wheel to hold the boat close to the wind, rain driving into her face, drenched to the bone in the now cold wind, she is one mad and unhappy camper. First reef in and set, The Captain starts to go below when he notes that The First Mate is still at the helm. She has not reset autopilot. He tells her to come below, get out of the rain. She responds that she is getting the feel of the boat, how it is sailing. No, she doesn’t like the feel of things, and she doesn’t like the look of the weather. She wants that second reef put in and put in now. Barely speaking to each other, we do so. The autopilot is now set and in control. Thoroughly wet with clothes plastered to her, chilled to the bone, she goes below to change.
Imagine next what it is like to extricate oneself from plastered-on clothes in the hole of a fiendishly rolling boat. Imagine what it is like to maintain one’s balance on a rolling floor that is equally as wet as the person standing on it. Conditions are what The First Mate calls “3-point” conditions, meaning that at least 3 parts of one’s body must be firmly attached to something solid and unmoving to keep from being thrown from one end of the boat to the other. Her “3-points” do not work when it comes to peeling off wet pants. She doesn’t have enough points! The boat lurches. Losing what little grip they had, the feet slide out from under her. She is air-borne. This free-falling object slams into the door of the head which was thankfully locked or it (she) would have ended up in the sink. Instead, the breath is knocked out of her as the door handle imbeds itself into her back. The boat stops its lurch. Meeting the unmovable object (door) caused the free-falling object (body) to lose its propulsion. It slides to the floor, landing in a heap, and bruising its tail bone in the process. Stunned, winded and not sure what is going to move and what isn’t, she sits there dumbly. The Captain hearing the echoes of commotion below looks down from the hatch. “Are you okay?” Not sure, she just sits up a bit more. The pain in her back is intense. There’s a spleen or something back there. Could she have ruptured it? Well, she is breathing. That’s good. A deep breath. Can she inhale, exhale, deeply? That’s good. Got that process going. Now let’s see what moves from this sitting position. Okay, arms, legs, fingers, toes. All working. Good sign. The big question now is can she stand up? Will the spinal column support her? “I’m fine,” she snarls upwards toward the dark hole of the hatch. Before moving any further, she peels off the blasted, plastered pants. Now, on all fours, she crawls over to the galley and hauls her body upwards using the counter for support. Any thought of her old body gracefully aging just doesn’t apply here. Well, no permanent damage appears to have been done. She can breathe, ambulate and if she doesn’t breathe too deeply or cough or laugh too hard, the spot in her back where the door handle is still dug in doesn’t hurt too much. Tomorrow. Things will be better tomorrow.
After that episode with the reefing, The Captain’s Log notes: “Winds have picked up to 25 – 30 kts. from E. Put in 1st reef, then quickly went to 2nd reef.” “Are we on two different planets?” wonders The First Mate. Must be.
For the rest of the afternoon, through the evening hours and into the early morning hours, winds stay predominantly in the 25 – 30 knot range. Those dropping winds that The Captain stalled putting in the reef for never appear. The First Mate maintains that all across the Pacific she has never seen a GRIB chart she could trust. Add 5 knots to whatever they forecast is her rule.
It is grey and overcast, rain showers come and go, seas are rough and bumpy and to add to the overall misery, every single port light (window) in the boat is leaking. Sea water is dripping in everywhere. The owner’s cabin bed coverings are all wet. We cannot sleep there. The couches in the salon are wet. The counters in the galley are sticky wet and so is the floor. It is just as wet below deck as above.
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We stuff yellow towels wherever we can. The person on watch is tasked with the job of wringing out the towels every half hour or so. If not, the towels just soak up with water and start dripping themselves. The First Mate finds she has to mop up the stove before she can even begin to think about cooking. The whole place is a mess.
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1900 – Captain’s Log: “We check in with Penguin Net. SSB now working” Somehow, in these conditions, The Captain has managed to troubleshoot and fix the radio.
Saturday, November 13th – 0200 – Captain’s Log: “Sue goes off watch after covering 40nm during her 4 hours. We are flying!” Even double reefed we are averaging 10nm per hour. Not bad, but it continues to be a rough, wet ride.
0600 – It is still mostly cloudy with scattered rain showers. Yes, we have had good wind, but it appears we also have had a favorable current. In the last 24 hours, we have covered 216nm under a double reefed mainsail!
0900 – A very short-lived miracle happens. The sun comes out! Skies are blue again with scattered clouds. Things are a bit calmer, and the boat is even beginning to dry out. The Captain advises that we have lost the favorable current and even had some adverse current for a while.
1500 – Short-lived, she said, just a mean little tease. Winds are now back to the 25 – 30 knot range. Seas are rougher, more boisterous, and everything is getting wet again. Did The First Mate mention that she has decided that passages just may not be her thing but maybe that is just her poor, aching, old body talking?
1900 – We cross the 180° meridian. Longitude will now start unwinding. Temperatures are definitely getting cooler as we head further south. The straps on the dinghy have to be pulled tighter, as the air in the dinghy compressed in the cooler temperatures. Huddled out of the wind and rain, we watch standers find ourselves going below for another layer of clothes.
Sunday, November 14th – Rough seas, scattered rain, strong and variable winds — it continues. The Captain’s 0600 report states that we have gone 414nm in last 48 hours
0730 – Penguin Net roll call: Locating the rest of the fleet that headed out with us from Nuku’alofa, we find that we are 90 – 110nm ahead of the nearest boats. We are serving as the forward guard telling everyone what the weather and seas are like ahead of them, and no one is excited about our news.
Another boat we know, Visions of Johanna, has left from Minerva Reef and is ahead of us. We get occasional reports from them. They tell us to expect better conditions as we sail below 30°S. We should be there by later today. The First Mate can’t wait.
1030 – Captain’s Log: “Winds are 18 – 22 kts and skies are blue. Our position is just below 29°S. Hopefully, this is the beginning of the gentler conditions forecast below 30°S.”
1500 – Winds are now steady at 18 – 20 knots. Seas are calming. We shake out both reefs and sail on under full sails. We continue to average 9 knots under blue skies. “This is more to my liking,” thinks The First Mate.
2230 – Captain’s Log: “Running out of wind. Sue’s sailing with winds at 10 – 12 knots. SOG is down to 6.5 kts. Still 345nm to go to Opua, New Zealand, and continuing to sail.”
Monday, November 15th – In the early morning hours, with winds down to 5 knots, The Captain gives up on sailing, furls the jib and turns on the engine. It is a sad decision because we are still 330nm from our destination, but it is what we had expected on this passage. We knew the winds were not going to last for the whole trek to New Zealand. We have enough fuel, so that is not a problem. The First Mate is not dismayed. After 3 days of misery and discomfort, she can take a deep breath …. No, she still cannot do that without a twinge of reminder of that door handle, but she can sit back and relax, enjoying the day and the peace the ocean can bring when it is behaving at its best. The Captain is in no such mood to sit back and relax. For him, the day is long and tedious, listening to the drone of the motor and playing with the sails to make the best out of the wind and sea conditions.
Tuesday, November 16th – 0130 – Absolutely no wind. Smooth seas. We are motoring along at about 6 knots.
1130 – It is nice and sunny. The boat and ourselves have dried out. We catch a small Albacore Tuna that we at first thought was a Big Eye Tuna.
Later that evening while enjoying a dinner of fresh tuna out on deck, an albatross flies by and continues to follow the boat for a while.
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New Zealand is one of the strictest countries regarding what you can and cannot bring onto its shores. It addition to absolutely no fresh vegetables and no meat, raw or cooked, other items such as honey and popcorn are not allowed. Knowing we will be reaching New Zealand tomorrow, we survey the small amount of food products we still have remaining on board and segregate the restricted ones. Those that will be readily eaten by ocean life are jettisoned. The rest is packaged in garbage bags that the New Zealand officials will take at no charge. How nice!
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Wednesday, November 17th – 0300 – The Cape Brett light is visible off the port bow 25nm ahead. New Zealand! That’s New Zealand out there in the dark! Even as she writes these words 5 months later, the thrill of that sighting still courses through her.
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0500 – At first light, the coastline of New Zealand can be seen.
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Iconic Cape Brett is lit by the rising sun. The opening called Hole In The Rock can even be seen from this distance.
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0710 – Captain’s Log:“Entering the Bay of Islands. Nice sunny morning in New Zealand.”
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We follow the markers down Veronica Channel to the Opua Marina admiring the landscape around us.
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0900: Avante is tied up at the Customs Dock with our Q-flag flying. In an hour and a half, we have cleared customs and are tied up in a slip at the Opua Marina. We have crossed the Pacific Ocean and made it to New Zealand.
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Total passage from Nuku’alofa, Tonga to Opua, New Zealand was 1059nm. It took 5 days and 21 hours. It was a tale of two passages. Three and a half days of hard sailing followed by two and a half days of calm motoring.
Total distance since we left Puerto Vallarta, Mexico on March 20, 2010 to make our first crossing of the Pacific Ocean was 9400nm. We arrived in New Zealand on November 17th, just two weeks prior to the date that our marine insurance company required that we be out of the tropical cyclone zone and safely in the waters of either New Zealand or Australia.
What an adventure! What an experience! It was truly the trek of a lifetime, and it continues. The Pacific Ocean in all its powerful beauty covers an immense amount of our planet. It laps the shores of many nations and surrounds even more islands. Although we have covered almost 10,000nm of her, we have only minimally touched her. A vast ocean is out there which we have only just begun to explore! Where do we go next in 2011? That is the question we intend to ask ourselves when we return home this winter. Avante goes on the hard in a few days, and on December 9th, we will fly home to celebrate the holidays in Telluride. At the end of March 2011, we will fly back to New Zealand. Right now, we know only that we will sail north to the South Pacific Islands in April as soon as we have clear weather, but where we go is yet to be determined. There’s a big oceanic world out there, and big, exciting and adventuresome decisions to be made!