Leaving Sawa-I-Lau; Pinnacles precede Pasco Reefs; Yadua; Coconut Pt; Nasonisoni pass; Savusavu
Leaving Sawa-I-Lau, April 23, 2013
There is a fire burning on the beach of Nabakeru Village, Sawa-I-Lau. The sun has set leaving muted colour, skirting clouds cover and uncover the waxing moon.
For the last two days the wind has bitten and nipped at us and warm rain descended. The grating sound of the wind generator has been unnerving.
My ear is bleeding and—I hate to say it—it is infected and seeping other than clear fluid. It aches. I’ve had no energy the last two days. It must be ‘swimmers ear’ as I’ve been in the water every single day for 2 weeks straight.
I have a hot sponge ‘bath’ with Dr. Bronner’s Peppermint Pure Castille soap and cream my body with after-sun aloe, take the most appropriate antibiotic I have—Azithromycin—for sinus and ear (not a perfect match), a Tylenol PM, and sleep tight in my new cream sheets I bought in Hawaii.
Dawn breaks. Russ brings coffee to me in my bunk and a slice of fresh banana-cranberry-walnut bread I made yesterday. Slowly I awaken. Our first sailing journey (versus motoring) in a long while will soon commence through Bligh waters to: Yadua for the first night’s stop over, a day’s journey to Coconut Point for the second night, and through Nasonisoni pass for the last leg to Savusavu.
The sun sends colour up through the saddle of Sawa-I-Lau’s low green bridge of hills pushing up at gray skies. The waters are still at last. I breathe a sigh of relief. And savour the hot cinnamon coffee and moist banana bread a little longer, stretching sleepy minutes. Then attend to the ear: insert Neosporin—the heat has turned from ointment to liquid--in lieu of ear drops and pop another antibiotic.
Dawn breaks. The sun has sent its colours up through the saddle of Sawa-I-Lau’s low green bridge. The wind is still at last.
It is up in the morning with my sea boots on. Not really. We’re not going to the Antarctic! Start the engine, pull up anchor, and head out when Russ says: “We’re up!”
Shoot the gap at 258 Degrees magnetic without hitting either of the two rocks Yadravavatu or Naldavedave, or the reefs. Head NNE and it takes Russ this time to warn me to fall off as I’m short-cutting the reefs.
We’re in the deep Bligh waters and Sawa-I-Lau, our magic island, is distancing itself from us. That chunk of magical rock is a mere blip in the mist.
We’re in deep Bligh waters and Sawa-I-Lau is distancing itself from us. That chunk of magic rock is a mere blip in the mist.
Pinnacles Precede Pascso Reefs.
Zulu is sailing at last, up toward the long string of Pasco Reefs. I see some Xs on the chart that disappear when I zoom in. Wonder what they are? Ahhhhhhhhh, we’ve gone from 250 ft to 25 ft!! What is up with this? I instinctively turn to starboard to point below Pasco and the water deepens. Pure luck.
Right clicking on those Xs at 16 Degrees 47.21’ S, 177 Degrees 45.63’ E tells me these are pinnacles. The note says:”Exam of aerial photography of area indicates that additional coral pinnacles exist over which depths are uncertain. Mariners advised to navigate with caution under which reefs may be most clearly seen.”
How are we going to do that? We forgot our helicopter at home! So we head a little south to get away from the Xs area, when zoomed out, and point 094 Degrees magnetic east and dead into the wind. Ouch! It is motor time and time to get our innards rearranged. Time to eat some salt in 20 knot winds.
I close my eyes momentarily as Ms Autopilot is handling things. I’m lulled by the residue of Tylenol PM. The rhythm of Zulu takes me to a small boat, with ragged sunburned Englishmen on board—one in a semblance of uniformed jacket: Captain Bligh and crew, sailing through these waters to avoid the cannibals of Fiji. Mutiny! Oooh.
A cup of tea sounds good about now. I’m happy I’m motoring through Bligh waters without the ‘Captain’. I never did think highly of him no matter which Bounty book I read slanting his skills and attributes one way or another.
Cucuvou Harbour, Yadua-- Lat 16 degrees.48’ S, Long 178 degres.17’E
5 hours of thumping into the wind snapped me out of reminiscing on Bligh and as the sun about kisses the horizon through the gray, we join our old tracks of 2010 and glide into Cucuvou Harbour to drop the hook in 50 ft. It is twilight with overcast skies.
We are not permitted to be here, because a German sailor collected endangered banded iguana eggs. Nature boy gone wrong spoils it for everyone!
But we are here seeking overnight refuge. The shadows lengthen rapidly. It is so silent you can hear the void. It is here I broke my hand in 2010 when Russ sent a boulder my way hiking up a cliff in front of me, which hit my hand bull’s eye. Crack! Oooooh. Not good.
I throw dinner together as my ear aches. Don’t think Bligh would have had me for crew. I’m a hospital case! In lieu of ‘checking in’ I take a ‘shower’ and climb into bed with another Tylenol PM.
Crack of dawn I awake to a bay as still and quiet as a lake with a near-full-moon my guardian light. Sleep! Just a little more…..
Coconut Pt, April 24, 2013—Lat 17 Degrees 02.22’ S, Long 178 Degrees 4.15’ E
We follow our trusty tracks out of Cucuvou Harbour through the reefs into deep water and into the wind. Head on we motor with 15-to-18-knot winds and glide into the anchorage off peaceful Coconut Pt.
It is 5:30 PM. We find nourishment—the last of the walu fish on rice with a Greek salad. Conversation leads to turning points. We sip chilled wine and enjoy the dot on the 'I' of dinner with cold canned guavas and cream, and a piece of Mocha dark chocolate. The guavas come from South Africa!!! And are canned in NZ.
I want to sleep with the light of the full moon bathing me. I set up bedding in the cockpit and lie in the best of cockpit discomfort to watch the clouds dance over the moon. It is most soothing and comforting to be at anchor on a calm bed of water nestled at the foot of Coconut Pt.
1:00 AM and the hard cockpit wins over and I return to the comfort of the aft cabin with feint fan breeze and protection from mosquito netting.
6:30 AM we start the engine—savour hot coffee and ditto, the last of the delicious banana bread, and an orange. Skies are gray, a light rain falls. In 2010 we did not track this tricky portion of the passage to and through Nasonisoni. The latter portion is like threading a needle through a reef labyrinth. I do have the physical way points though to fall back on.
Eureka! I remember I have Curly’s way points, a Kiwi sailor icon, who saved and shared his way points over most of Fiji. We do not know who he is, but the fleet passing through the reef-strewn waters past and present have relied on them with gratitude. We will be safe!! Because we used these in 2010 and they are proven. Way points are Lat Long positions marked on the chart for safe passage between points to an end destination. Mumbo jumbo professor talk.
There are many signs in the skies that point to light and colour in life this early morning. I need this to know whether I will continue sailing on Zulu or find my small cottage by the sea!
It is as if the skies were touching my heart. The cloud canopy that shrouded Coconut Pt has a silver lining. 246 Degrees magnitude in leaving the anchorage we point our bow into the arc of a rainbow that seems to be drawing colour out of gray! I wish we could motor under it and through its arc for an indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange, red baptism. But we turn short of that to round the point.
The skies point to signs for me. They draw out colour and light. Out of the gray there is silver lining, a rainbow, and shafts of light that pierce through the clouds.
Shafts of light pierce through the clouds pointing to silver waters. The rainbow is to our stern quarter now. We turn the point of Coconut, and a journey together on Zulu since May of 2008, and head for Nasonisoni pass and Savusavu. A coconut floats by as if to say ‘hold' on! Papillion did.
Nasonisoni pass
It was easy going through as skies had turned blue! Still, I stood on the bow to call to Russ that reefs are too close to port. There is a small motor boat alongside the reefs, fishing.
It is beautiful to see the colour demarcation of the water, the white of waves breaking, the Island of Nasonisoni and in the background to the left the long arm of Vanua Levu, the second biggest island in Fiji.
Nasonisoni Island to our port.
We center Zulu’s nose through the pass.
Nasonisoni pass. Keeping our eye on the reefs to port and starboard, way points our guide.
We’re out the pass! It is time at last to raise the sails and push Zulu’s hull over a degree to port and make sail for Savusavu through the most beautiful blue waters with 15 knots of wind on our beam. No drumming of the engine, no white noise, just the wind in the sails. Heaven!
Savusavu, April 25, 2013--Lat 16 Degrees 46.65' S, Long 179 Degrees 19.87' E
Again the day is ending and we sail into Savusavu on the southern shore of Nakama creek at the eastern end of the bay. It is picturesque and quiet and has an old-town flavor.
The Copra Shed is silhouetted in the water—an historic building renovated. Home to salts who hang off moorings and nose into slips or anchor where they can.
Apelli motors toward us and Russ, as always, chooses the mooring fartherest away for the breeze and view. We have arrived! Sweet!
Savasavu, on the southern shores of Nakama creek, Vanua Levu.
The Copra Shed, renovated from a historic building—home to salts on moorings.
We have arrived. See Zulu is on the fartherest mooring put to bed.
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