As it turned out we had north-east winds which meant we pounded directly in to the wind . We had to motor sail the whole way (which burned up about 120 litres of fuel) as well as having to listen to the engine the whole time. To get a feel for the crossing picture being on a bucking bronco, not for 8 seconds (or in our son Danny's case about 6 seconds, ha,ha) but for a very long 48 hours.
During the crossing, we stayed in the same clothes and didn't go below, except to grab seasickness pills for me (which thankfully work like magic) and to heat up the pre-cooked meals I had prepared. Peter usually does the cooking onboard, since he has discovered that he loves it, ever since we began cruising 6 years ago. However, I'm the queen of casseroles, and love organizing, so I enjoy provisioning for our passages.
One of the interesting things that happen during crossings, is how different sailing seems at night vs. during the day. The sun sets exactly at 6:00 p.m. and rises at exactly 6:00 a.m. so there is equal light to darkness. We were travelling during very overcast weather, which meant little in the way of stars and the moon was just a sliver popping in and out amongst the clouds, so it was truly pitch black. It seems as soon as the darkness hits that the wind picks up and the seas get rougher. This isn't actually the case, but when it is dark your senses are heightened and you become easily disorientated.
The first night, as soon as the darkness blanketed us, the wind picked up a little, but again it was mostly perception. I asked Peter to reef the main (which was the only sail we had up) and he, not surprisingly, said no. Sometimes he revels in the power of being Captain. Can you guess where this story is going? I then asked again, and Mr. Sensitive said it would be stupid to reef and if he always listened to me when I asked to reef we'd never get anywhere. Long story short, I had to "lose" it as we were heeled over with the wind howling. Peter then reluctantly, put in not just one reef, but two. When I asked afterwards what it did to our speed and performance, Peter very sheepishly said "nothing - we are going the same speed", but of course, we were far more comfortable with the boat flattening out and far less anxiety for me with another 11 hours of darkness ahead of ourselves. Our goal is to not have to go through this very common scenario on our return trip to Fiji.
Because it was so incredibly rough, with high swells and heavy wind going against us, we were literally unable to do anything but sit in the cockpit for the entire trip. We couldn't read, do crosswords, or anything else at all. This was also why I didn't post the daily blog that I normally do while on passages. For those of you that know me well, you know that for me to do nothing drives me crazy! The one upside (for me anyway) was that our self-steering system was unable to work for most of the passage because we had the motor running, which meant that we had to hand-steer. This was pretty exhausting with the very confused seas, but we switched watch about every two hours so it was manageable. We only encountered one squall with blowing rain and thunder, so in that we were very lucky.
Church heading in to Futuna
We arrived in to the tiny anchorage in Futuna just after sunrise. We took the dinghy down off the deck, hoisted the French flag and our quarantine flag, straightened out the boat, showered off the salt and headed off to land in search of customs and immigration.
This island has a population of about 3,000 and almost all of them are civil servants of the French government. They import over 100 times their meager export which is Toro root. Most of the non-native population is French officials who are here on a three year contract, earning three times what they would in France. What is different here from other tropical islands we have experienced is the high percentage of the population that smokes. Here everyone seems to be smoking, whereas it is very uncommon in other areas such as Fiji.
We walked for a couple of kilometres, which was a trick in itself, as we were still reeling from the pitching seas. Something else unusual was how casual the immigration and police are here. They were in t-shirts and shorts and they checked us in and checked us out all at the same time, even though we aren't leaving for two days.
I wanted to leave the next day, as Futuna has little to recommend it. There are virtually no tourists that come here, so there are hardly any services. The people aren't very friendly since they don't rely on tourists for their income as the other islands do. Luckily we don't need to stock up on anything, since there is no bank here. They get a "bank lady" who comes twice a month and she was here the day before yesterday so we missed her. There are no charges for checking in or checking out, so we were lucky there.
Little anchorage surrounded by dangerous reefs
The anchorage itself is also nothing to write home about (but I am anyway, ha,ha). It is extremely tiny and rolly as it is open to the sea. We managed to nap yesterday afternoon to catch up on sleep and the overnight wasn't too uncomfortable. If the winds change to southeast, we will have to make a run for it as the anchorage is untenable in those conditions. That is one of the reasons, I wanted to leave the day after arriving, but it turns out to be a Friday, and as some of you may know there is an old sailing adage that you never set out on a passage on Friday. We have never paid much attention to this before, but Peter is turning in to an old salty and he says he doesn't want to tempt fate. So, we are hanging around today, in an uncomfortable anchorage and then heading to the one overpriced government official hotel to use their free internet and to have lunch there (they accept credit cards).
This is what we were dragging anchor towards....
We just had a visit from one of the other two boats that are here. The Captain lives in these islands and just came to warn us to keep an eye on the weather and to head out to sea if the winds get any stronger. He isn't leaving at this point until tomorrow either, so we'll just play it by ear.
We just listened to the ham radio and the winds tomorrow are going to be south east. Those are the winds we were expecting and hoping for on our crossing over. On the return we were wanting north east, but it appears that we will be beating in to weather again on the return. The good thing about the return though is it is the first 24 hours that will be the roughest and then we will be travelling up through the channel again and close to shore so the waves are significantly reduced from those out at open sea.
So, unless we have to get out of Dodge today due to wind, we are leaving tomorrow morning. Since it is expected to be rough, I may not do our daily passage update, but will post upon arrival in Fiji. It will be good to have our "visa run" over with and then we can enjoy sailing throughout Fiji for the remainder of this cruising season. Have a great weekend.
******UPDATE******
Shortly after I finished this blog posting, the circumstances in the anchorage deteriorated quickly. The wind increased to over 20 knots with southerly winds. This meant that the already rolly anchorage was now becoming unsafe. We dragged our anchor and reset it, but still was dragging back towards the exposed reef. Peter went and talked to our neighbour about the anchorage at Alofi, which is only 6 miles away. He said it was a comfy anchorage and would be safe. He also said after he took care of business he was probably going to head out because once high tide rolls it, it is next to impossible to get out of the pass - as well as being unsafe in the little harbour. A definite no-win situation.
Peter getting the local knowledge
As we were leaving the harbour, the other boat that was there was also concerned that they might be dragging. They have to unload their dinghy, check in and get organized though before they can even think about vamoosing from the anchorage - so hopefully they will be able to get out before that window of opportunity escapes them.
We are now safely anchored at Alofi. It is really rolly too, so we might head out at about 3:00 in the morning, but we'll play it by ear. This is the part of sailing that reminds me of having an infant. You think you have a plan in place but the baby decides to get sick, stay awake all night, or any of a number of ways causes you to change your plans.
The anchorage indicator at Alofi. Looks a bit ominous!
If this gets posted today, (Friday, October 12th) it will be via our Ham radio, which may or may not work while we are here. I'll give it a try later tonight when the propagation looks good.
P.S. Will still be out of internet range for about 3 days.
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