Update 17

Orca Update # 17

Hi!

We gladly left Lautoka behind, paperwork in hand, to sail to Musket Cove, the southernmost all-weather harbor in Fiji. Musket Cove has a resort that caters to yachties as well as tourists, providing showers, laundry, and final customs clearance service. The main attraction for sailors is, of course, the bar which is situated on a tiny sandy island sticking out into the anchorage, connected to the main resort by a floating dock. For most of the year, it's a beautiful place—idyllic. However, in October and November, there is tension in the air. Instead of happy vacationers, gladly free of the office and swilling Fiji Bitter, you see groups of nervous men and women clustered around tables covered in weatherfax printouts, laptops, and pilot charts. They talk of cut off lows, upper level short wave troughs, bent back warm fronts, NOGAPS model runs, sea surface temperatures, and the elusive “weather window”. Later, after the day's decision have been made, those who choose to go will have a cup of coffee and get to work, those who choose to stay will have a beer, or six, and stare off into space.

These are the skippers who will make the run to New Zealand, and any one of them will tell you they are anxious about this passage, perhaps above all others. They've listened to and read the dozens of heavy-weather accounts on this passage through the North Tasman Sea. Chiefly, they remember the 1994 Queen's Birthday storm, when a dozen boats on this stretch of water all set off emergency beacons within hours of each other, hammered by unforecast 70 foot seas and hurricane force winds.

We decided to go on October 22. We spent the day before checking hatches and ports. Tying down everything big enough do damage, should we get turned over. We checked gear we hope never to use—sea anchor, storm stays'l, our deepest reefs, our sea cocks. We scrubbed the bottom clean, to make the passages as quick as possible. We felt Orca was as ready as she was ever going to be, the weather looked promising, so we left.

We'd been watching the weather for months with this moment in mind. While weather forecasts more than 3 days out are unreliable, by watching the multi-week cycles of lows and high marching across the southern ocean and timing our departure, we were able to stack the odds in our favor. The strategy was to catch the leading edge of the topside of a slow-moving high pressure system, beating into the reinforced SE trades, then ride the backside of the high down to NZ as it moved past us. In reality, it blew SE for much longer than we expected. Orca is a wet boat in any circumstances—lots of water on deck. But beating into 25-30 knots of wind in 12-15 foot seas, for 8 days, turned her into a veritable submarine. We pushed her as hard as we dared, hull speed all the way through baby. She shuddered and groaned, and water found its way in through just about every port, hatch, and gasket. It was important that we go fast – we didn't want to be at sea when the stormy part of the cycle started.

We arrived in the Bay of Islands, New Zealand, yesterday after 8 days at sea. We averaged 135 miles/ day, which is fantastic for Orca. NZ is a huge port of call for cruising boats, and the various marinas all compete for blue-water business. Consequently, we were pampered upon arrival. Free dock. Free clearance procedures. Customs met us on the dock with an arrival 'gift pack' – free rum (from the local liquor store), coupons for free stuff ashore, cruising guides, and a nice woven bag to keep it all in. Orca is now in a slip for the first time since leaving North America, and she needs it! We've got a lot of boat projects to catch up on, so we better get to work!

Update 16 -- Lautoka, Fiji!

Hello from Lautoka, Fiji!

We had a week of fantastic surf along the SW edge of Fiji with the parents, Tim and Ann. The swell comes barreling out of the Tasman Sea, between NZ and Australia, and slams directly into the outer reefs that guard the southern edge of the Bligh Water. The swell refracts into and around the passes in these reefs, which creates all sorts of interesting effects, the primary one being nearly perfect waves. There are only two small islands out along this reef. Tavarua, the most famous, is about the size of a city block. Namotu, which has the better anchorage, is only slightly bigger than a basketball court (we hear it was much larger until plowed by a hurricane in the 70's which eroded nearly the whole island and stripped it of vegetation).

We lucked into quite a bit of swell last week, surfing Cloudbreak as it built. Cloudbreak is on an outer reef a few miles from land and is a very exposed wave--best when the wind is light. It's accessible only by boat, and we were able to anchor Orca in the channel for a front-row view. The bored Fijian panga drivers, waiting for their tourists to finish surfing, loved to come aboard for a cup of coffee and shoot the breeze. At the peak of the swell, a front rolled through creating stormy conditions that were a little too exciting for the outer reef, but perfect for Restaurants, which is one of the gems of the South Pacific. A few feet overhead, the wave breaks as fast as it is possible to go on a surfboard and peels perfectly into two feet of water over sharp reef.

Every night, we would go ashore for a fantastic meal on the resort, to chat at the bar, and occasionally sing bad karaoke. We met some some great people who we hope to see again in Australia and NZ. The kava ceremony was a highlight—at least for Tim. He was really looking forward to the narcotic effects of the pounded root. Unfortunately, after calling for 6 additional rounds of kava after the ceremony had concluded, the only effect he reported was a numb tongue and lack of sleep due to numerous bathroom trips. According to Eli, one of the friendly Fijians on the island, its not uncommon to drink 30 rounds of kava in a single night before feeling any effect. Eli was a real character; as a long time employee of the surf resort, his clothes were a conglomeration of gifts and forgotten items picked up from resort guests. He could usually be found finessing his big surf panga right into the Cloudbreak lineup, wearing a pair of girl's designer sunglasses, while fondling the outboard motor handle protruding proactively from between his legs. In the water, despite weighing in at a solid 260 lbs and riding a tiny 6'0 second hand surfboard, he would power into double-overhead Cloudbreak on sheer muscle alone.

The swell has now gone flat and there a moderate-strength high pressure system moving off the east coast of Australia. In a few days time, if things continue to develop favorably, we will try to catch the top and backside of this high and ride it down to NZ. We are now in Lautoka, standing by for a weather report and customs clearance to make the jump. Its been a while since we've been out of the tropics, so we're digging out the warm clothes and checking hatches, rigging, and other gear. The passage to and from NZ has a reputation for being quite rough, but with a little luck on the weather we can hope for landfall 10-20 days after leaving Fiji.

Thanks!

Kara & John

Update 15 --

Hello from Namotu, Fiji!

In the last few weeks we have not covered the big mileages that we're used to seeing, but the sailing has been very challenging for other reasons. We spent 7 days at Wallis island, which has a very interesting lagoon dotted with muffin-top islands, craggy Dr. Seuss cliffs, and long sand bars. Wallis is remarkably isolated and the people's lifestyle is an artifact of the generous French government; they have no industry, they export nothing, and there is no tourism—yet the island supports a population of nearly 9,000. Despite the economic state, there is almost no poverty, everyone is happy and seems to have everything they need. Everyone is a local; there are no street signs, the businesses aren't labeled, there are no maps. They drink Foster's instead of water—in fact, we hadn't taken 10 steps on shore when we had cold beers shoved in our hands by some friendly natives. They don't get many (any?) visitors, so we were a bit of a curiosity. Hitchhiking was easy, thumbs largely unnecessary. After getting in the car, we sometimes found ourselves kidnapped for extended island tours. It wasn't unusual to have the driver pull over to buy a round Foster's along the way. We were amazed at the Wallisian generosity, especially since we rarely encountered anyone who spoke English.

The highlight of our stay was at the end of a muddy dirt road, after a gentle but lengthy uphill slog on borrowed bikes. An inactive volcano crater, 1 mile wide and perfectly round with vertical sides, dropped 600 feet into a black lake. Legend has it that the lake is bottomless, fact seized upon by the Americans at the close of World War II. Presumably to keep their war machines from falling into the wrong hands, they simply bulldozed their entire war operation over the cliff into the lake. The tanks, trucks, artillery and ammunition sank into the depths and have never been seen again.

Fully refreshed, we decided to press on to Savusavu, Fiji. That night we entered Fijian waters, which are a new ballgame, navigationally speaking. Up until this point, the geography of the South Pacific has been one of few islands separated by hundreds or thousands of miles of deep, open, and safe water. This leads to a highly technical sailing strategy of “point the boat in the right direction until you see land.” In Fiji, however, all the charts say things like “numerous uncharted reefs exist in all areas,” which turns out to be exactly correct. There are lots uncharted reefs, and entire uncharted islands, big ones! Needless to say, we can sail only during the day and someone is on bow watch all the time.

Having safely arrived in Savusavu, we were overjoyed to find that we could afford to buy things! We ate out at restaurants, bought fresh fruits and vegetables, and were able to talk to locals (English is spoken as a second language by nearly all Fijians). Around this time word got out to friends and family back home that we were in a prime vacationing zone and suddenly we found that we were sorely missed and people were just going to have to come visit us. The excitement started when Megan and Chris, friends from home, caught a lift with us from Savusavu across the Bligh Water to the remote Yasawa group to do some beach camping and backpacking. Kara cooked a breakfast which our guests quickly regurgitated into Orca's wake. Between heaves we told them how the situation could be worse; the Bligh Water got its name when Captain Bligh and a few loyal men, after losing the Bounty to another faction of mutinous crew, were chased across the same 70 miles of water by war canoes filled with angry Fijian cannibals. They frantically rowed their lifeboat for hours and finally escaped, exhausted, into open ocean. Megan and Chris, however, retired below for long naps.

The next morning at first light, we anchored behind a picturesque sandspit connecting two islands in the Yasawa group. We surfed a nearby reef that had almost no redeeming qualities – shifty and small like a beach break, shallow and dangerous like a reef break. We had a nice bonfire on the beach, which was when our would-be campers discovered that tropical desert islands don't make good campgrounds: lots of creepier-crawlies, debilitating heat, and chronic lack of water. A bit disillusioned, our first round of guests retreated to Orca's relative luxury, canceled their camping plans and booked flights back to the U.S. Megan and Chris were hot, seasick, and tired but in surprisingly good spirits when we left them at Musket Cove to start their retreat back to the US.

Meanwhile, a few miles away at an expensive surf resort, a pair of hot, tired, and jet-lagged parentals had just checked into their executive villa and wasted no time bumping the air conditioning thermostat down to sub-Arctic. A quick sail brought us out to meet them, and so it happens that we find ourselves anchored behind the small island of Namotu, within easy reach of several world class surf breaks that have yet to produce anything other than knee high wind-chop. However, time is on our side so we will see what the future holds.

Thanks!

John & Kara