and continued further north east, wanting to get as far east as possible before we cross the ITCZ (Inter Tropical Convergence Zone). The very first day out, the weather turned hard against us which we had braced for, as we track the weather any time we are planning a passage. My cousin Tom, an amazing scientist with NOAA, had told us to expect the El Niño year would likely bring lighter trade winds in this area. Coming from the Marquesas to the Tuamotus in April had proved him right, but this past week was the exception to the rule and we faced hard winds of 18 to 22 kts. against us as were the current and up to 10' waves. Sailing hard against the weather brought heavy seas crashing over and into the boat. The worst days had waves jumping right into the cockpit, 5 to 10 gallons at a time, every ten minutes or so. Last year's fad of the "Ice bucket challenge" had nothing on us. While the water crashing over us wasn't icy, it happened over and over and over again.
With so much salt spray, the boat soon became encrusted with it and every time we touched anything, our hands would come away full of salt crystals. Likewise, our clothes and hair were crusted with salt, it was everywhere. In spite of the dodger covering the hatchway, one wave managed to drop a huge gush of water into the cabin, soaking everything! The shower drained got clogged, allowing water to flood the aft head. It needed on going pumping out. Cooking was a major challenge, with the stove at a 25 degree angle in it's gimble. The stove was level. It was the rest of the boat that was tilted.
The gentle Palouse-like swells of the week before were just a memory. Heavy seas made the boat slam from one wave to the next with violent thuds, shaking us to the core. Sleeping was nearly impossible and sleep deprivation the norm. For the first time ever, we put a second reef in the mainsail, reducing its size as far as possible. We also put up our smaller jib, which we had never used before, and kept it partially furled. It is an older sail, and two days out, the bottom seam tape started to unstitch. I crawled out to the bow and cut off 12' of it to prevent it from turning to tatters. Every trip forward, meant we needed a fresh water rinse as we would be drenched, head to toe. We turned to our secondary navigation system as our main system crashed. The rule of thumb on a boat is you never rely on just one system for something important.
Just twenty miles out of Nuku Hiva, the head strap at the top of the jib broke, leaving the sail useless and flapping wildly. We worked as a team, crawling out to the bow, bringing the sail down to the foredeck and tying it down. We went the last part of our journey without any jib sail. As we moved into the lee of the island, the seas calmed somewhat. At sunset, the steep, barren cliffs of Nuku Hiva were a welcome sight.
We pulled into the harbor just after dark, set the anchor, did a little clean up of ourselves and the boat, and crashed. Sleep never felt so good! During the night a hard rain helped wash away much of the salt and we woke to a new day, knowing that had been our last stretch where the weather is against our route.
Jerry mended the stereo, we have music again. A call to the tech at the nav system company brought a simple, half day project that fixed the glitches we were experiencing on our primary navigation system. Blowing air though the shower drain cleared the clog and back flow problem. An 8 hour day at the Internet cafe gave us our new chart download for Hawaii. (People with dial up internet don't know what slow is until they try using Polynesian Internet systems!) Tomorrow, I go up the mast to retrieve the jib halyard. We will put on our original, larger jib, and top off the fuel by bringing 4 five gallon cans to the fuel dock by dinghy.
June 2nd
We leave Nuku Hiva in the morning. As two early hurricanes have already formed off of Central America, Andres and Blanca, we have hired a weather roouter for this next leg of our trip. Rick has masters degrees in oceanography and meterology and will give us weather reports as we travel north. We may go as far as 5 degrees north, then wait for a good window, stalling just above the ITCZ, then shoot for Hilo. Today we do a last minute fresh veggie shop, take ourselves out for dinner and a shower, then stow the dinghy and get a good night's sleep. In the morning, we must pull up the anchor chain by hand as the windlass (the motor that lifts the anchor) is broken. We will replace that in Hawaii. The sailors mantra is you sail in order to be able to fix your boat in exotic places. So true!
