The Voyage of Yacht Zulu: Passage from Tonga to Fiji

August 1, 2010

Zulu News

Hello to each one of you from Zulu riding at night in the Koro Sea, Fiji. It has been awhile since news came to you across the ethereal. I think of each one of you in your own element of life and hope all is well with you. Write back when you can.

This will be short as my tummy and head are in swirl motion. Outside the wind HOWLS and the wind generator sounds like a prop plane flying low over Iceland. It is dark and wet and the moon is under cover, along with my favourite planet Venus. Wet is the word, and so dark. And every now and again a wave crashes hard against the hull or over the house. The sound of water against metal makes a loud boom.

The main is reefed, and with it alone we point dead into the wind to try to stop our forward motion. We cannot make it to Savusavu bay, on the island of Vanua Levu, before nightfall. Submerged Point Reef waits to bite those with poor judgment or a vessel that founders.

All night long we ride into the wind at only 1.6 knots. That is good. And every 10 minutes or so the one on watch pokes a head out to see if there are other boats or ferries or ships in sight. The Koro Sea is wild tonight, even though enclosed by reefs and encircled by islands. I keep my eyes glued to the electronic charts and radar to make sure all is clear around us. It is.

A gray curtain fell on Tonga for the last four days and it was time to leave. I did a last swim in beautiful Port Maurelle searching for a friend's lost scrimshaw. Then out we sailed leaving the last of the images behind: Tongan fishermen sleeping under the trees on the beach of Tapana Island after fishing all night --their clothes hanging on trees to dry in the sun; a young Tongan dancer with waist-length hair and skin oiled and shiny dancing subtle movements at the Vavau Yacht Club before sunset; the sweet Tasmanian family whose two little children came second in the yacht race, racing their sailing dinghy their mother built them; Russ drinking kava with ‘the boys’ at the Aquarium restaurant, my last bite of the Crows Nest’s cinnamon roll; market ladies serenity--their gifts to me because I bought some of their handicrafts; light shining on Hunga as we searched Whale Alley for whales breaching; then slowly all of Tonga slipped away under the horizon like a dream when morning dawns.

A young Tongan girl dances at the Vavau Yacht Club on the last Friday after the yacht race.

The Vavau Yacht Club commodore trying to squeeze a word out of Nina, while Zeke stands by. These two darling children sailed a dinghy their mother built for them and came in 2nd in the whole yacht race.

Russ drinks kava with Tongan musicians the last night in Neiafu.

Running with the wind down 18-ft waves across to Fiji is not fun. Both our stomachs are in our mouths with the S-motion. We virtually fly across the waters, peaking at 12 knots of speed. Russ decides to come in through Lakemba passage at midnight, rather than hove to at sea. But the Koro Sea is big and it holds Zulu for this last night in its boiling cauldron.

The wind howls with fury and Zulu feels like a wild stallion tethered and held back, but jerking to break lose. It is safe and warm below, but being on watch is nerve racking as I have to get out there and watch. It all sounds worse than it is. I can’t wait for the night to end and to safely tie to a mooring in Savusavu by end of day tomorrow.

I smack my head full on, and then become a human-shower hybrid as the motion throws me against the shower nozzle--my back hitting it with such force the metal makes a clean break. I imagine my back impaled, so that I have a permanent shower attached.

Add these two to smacking my thigh into the corner of the solar panel like I was an Olympic medalist. The only medal being a big round bruise with a bulls eye piercing. I feel like I am going to be sick as I write, so must go up on deck to get air in the rain.

Did somebody say we are living the dream sailing the South Pacific? I'm thinking of a cottage by the sea with bubble or perfumed oil baths, books, and gentle breezes--flowers.

The sun will shine in time and the waters will once again be calm. Through all the challenges, we are living the dream, as I hope you are too.