Should We Stay Or Should We Go?

Commander's Weather provided us with this forecast for the passage from Opua to Fiji. The forecast looked pretty good except for a couple of periods with gusts to 40 knots. In general, the forecast looked pretty good for this passage for which a perfect weather almost never appears.

We were both nervous about the expected weather moving across our path for the passage. Looking at other weather data, gribs and buoyweather, we decided to leave for Fiji. Tactically, we wanted to get north as fast as possible to try to get above the high winds. The night before departure, getting above the high winds looked possible.

Robin checked the weather around 2 am and received the following grib.

To top this off, a better weather window looked to be forming in about 6 days — but we were certain the forecast 6 days out would change, so waiting may not result in the better window. After much discussion and review, we still decided to leave with much trepidation.

Duncan stowed the dinghy and outboard as we motored out of the channel. As few other boats left on the same morning. Up went the sails and we were off. The first day and night of sailing were wonderful albeit quite cold. Good speed. Beautiful sunset. Amazing stars.

Regular checks of gribs, buoyweather and emails from Commanders weather kept us heading due north to avoid the coming winds which were now being called a gale. The second day of the passage the winds died and we motored north as fast as possible. Every grib showed the winds moving further and further north. Then, an updated forecast from Commanders Weather confirmed we were in for high winds for a much longer period than expected. Did that forecast say 25 to 35 knots sustained winds for over 24 hours with gusts 45-50? Yup, it did. Batten down the hatches mateys, we're in for a blow!

Nightly at 5pm, we chatted on the SSB with friends on Gosi and Endangered Species. With Gosi's one day head start, they appeared to be in a better position to miss most of the gale. As it turns out, the silly gale kept moving north and put them in the area of high winds and seas, too.

We prepared ourselves and Whisper as much as possible for what was to come. The good news was the highest winds were scheduled to occur during daylight. There is something more ominous about squalls and big seas in the dark.

As predicted, the winds and seas arrived during daylight on the fourth day out. It all started with a bang. Literally. On the morning of day four at 10 am, Robin woke Duncan up from his morning nap to say, "I think we have a squall coming on radar and you may want to come take a look". Duncan came into the cockpit ill prepared for our first 50 knot gust - then a second and a third. The front accompanying the low had arrived with a bang. Whisper, with only a storm staysail and triple reefed main was heeling 30+ degrees with the rail down on a beam reach and sustained winds of 35-45 knots. The seas built quickly to 15 to 20 feet and the boat was running nearly out of control at 8 to 10 knots. We drove the boat downwind with the autopilot to try to get better control (it kept rounding up and into the huge waves) but auto kept steering us too far down and the wind direction kept shifting. Duncan tried to hand steer. Big mistake. Before he could get control (looking down and futzing with the auto-pilot which not yet really on standby - no wonder it felt impossible to steer), Robin yelled "watch the jibe!"

Well, too late, the triple-reefed main slammed to port and when it hit the wire running backstay, it felt like the rig was going to come down on our heads. The impact sent several tiny (to be identified later) bits of Whisper flying into the air. Duncan started the engine, got some control of the helm, and started driving the knocked-over boat through the now huge seas and back onto a port tack. We were very surprised, white-knuckle hanging-on, and soaked by waves and the bulleting rain (or was it sleet?).

On damage assessment, Duncan noted the boom vang was no longer controlling the boom. The mast was riding high and the twist in the main was severe enough to lay the sail against the shrouds (but was also de-powered now, which was a good thing). The one minute or so the boom sawed against the wire running backstay was enough to gouge a nice groove and shave off the anodizing where it lay against the wire (yes Scott Easom, we should have gone with all Spectra running backstays!). The cam cleat on the traveler had broken, and our sailing-egos were severely bruised. A triple-reefed main was insufficient - another meter of sail furled into the mast would have been far better - and in hindsight, we should have "prevented" the boom even though we were on a beam reach. Beam can go to broad - to a run - and to an uncontrolled jibe in an instant during a squall.

After about 6 hours of this survival-mode sailing with squall after squall, we realized sitting in the cockpit for the night was going to be challenging. Whisper was stable, heading north, and doing fine all by herself. The winds settled in at around 25 to 35 knots and gusts to 40 with squalls packing no where near the initial punches of the first 6 hours. The seas built to somewhere between 10 to 18 feet.

The big decision for us was to dramatically revise our watch schedule for the next two days. We performed watches down below rather than in the cockpit. This was a first for us. With the egg timer set for 30 minutes, we would alternately awaken (after about three repeated watch rounds of 1.5 hours each) check the radar, look around (not that we could see anything), ensure the wind wasn't shifting, and basically go into survival rest-mode. And so it went for the next two days. Fun-factor was low. Spirits were low. Duncan muttered "passages suck", "I hate passages" or, "this is my last passage" at least 20 times during these three days.

Duncan clipped together a few videos from the passage if you want to see a bit of the experience. Check it out. As we learned of other boats broken gear, expensive repairs, lost boats and at-sea rescues, severe seasickness, crew falling-outs, injuries, and the various storm tactics employed, our did not seem too bad. Our friends, Tom & Barb on Gosi, rescued a French single-hander. They heard his mayday (he had been calling mayday for five days without a response), turned around, went 10 miles back, and affected a dramatic at-sea rescue of Pascal and his meager belongings as his home-built trimaran drifted off to the southeast without any rudder or means of steering. Pascal was a delight, the Fijian officials were very understanding of his plight, and Pascal flew back to Paris from Suva.

After two days, the winds dropped to a lovely 8 to 12 knots even though big seas remained. Now, thoughts of landfall danced in our heads.

Months ago, we decided to make Savusavu on Vanua Levu our port of entry into Fiji. We really want to explore the area and partake in the renown diving in that area. Vanua Levu is the large north eastern island in the Fiji island group. From there, we plan to explore Taveuni and get over to the Lau group of islands. Commander's Weather sent us one final forecast for the remainder of the passage. Their forecast and all of our other sources of weather indicated extremely light winds followed by a potential "burst of activity" over Fiji and lots of squalls on our expected arrival date. More bursts of activity or squalls were not what we wanted. Savusavu is the northern-most port of entry in Fiji. Other ports of entry include Suva, Lautoka and Levuka. After much discussion and analysis of weather forecasts and fuel supply, we decided to make landfall in Lautoka, Viti Levu. With this change, our arrival in Fiji will come one day sooner than expected and in advance of any undesirable weather. Yippee! We will still go to Savusavu after some rest and relaxation.

On the 13th of May, we motored through the pass on the west side of Viti Levu and up to Lautoka. Duncan proceeded to launch the dinghy and head in to shore. After check-in by Customs, Immigration, and Health/Quarrantine, we were officially in Fiji. The anchorage in Lautoka is not great, so we moved down to Soweli Bay for the night. Hooray - anchor down.

We enjoyed a tiny celebration with bubbles and chicken nachos. We toasted Whisper for being such a fine boat. We toasted each other for getting to Fiji safely. Let the rest and relaxation begin!

Passage stats:

• Total Miles: 1099
• Passage Hours: 171.58 (7.2 days)
• Engine Hours: 102.6
• Average Speed: 6.4 knots
• Maximum Speed: 10.1 knots