With the clearance from French Polynesia complete, it remained only to fill up with diesel and water, and to take the last fresh vegetables on board.
If we had
gone by the chart, we would have had to give the reefs a wide berth,
but there is a small dinghy pass that we have used several times with
David’s dinghy. It looked deep enough, even though the chart says
only 50 cm, so we tried it with Taiko, passing very close to the
small island. This saved us four miles.
Small Island
On November 1st, the time had finally come, and we lifted the anchor at 10:00 sharp, taking the fender floats on board one by one. It was nice to see we hadn’t damaged any coral.
We
sailed through the reefs of the Raiatea and Tahaa lagoons, and out
through Tahaa’s north-west pass. Our buddy boats from NZ, “Fourth
Dimension” and “Tiluk” (a 51’ Beneteau, and a 42’
catamaran, respectively), left with us on the same course. We are
happy that our Taiko can keep up so well with such bigger yachts.
It’s also nice to be in contact via VHF every now and then.
Raiatea with Tiluk and 4D
Not much happened during the first week of the passage. We did break a pulley on the mainsail sheet the first day, but it was quickly repaired. The wind came steadily from E-ESE and varied between 15-30 knots. Above 20 knots, with every five knots more or less wind, we took in or let out one reef. That was always Martin’s job. The log book notes that the sea was quite rough. We had rain on two days, and of course, higher wind along with it. I was glad not to have to go into the cockpit to reef; Martin got wet to the skin every time. No real drama in the warm tropical rain, though. Moni, our wind vane, steered all the time and did an excellent job.
Since we were
sailing west, the wind was directly behind us, which isn’t a bad
thing in general, but we also had an overlying southern swell
creating a cross sea. The waves pushed Taiko around constantly,
creating a rolling motion where cooking and eating became a real
challenge — made us wish we were octopuses with eight arms! We lost
count of how many times the coffee spilled over us, or fell over
completely, or of how many ingredients landed on the floor while
preparing them, or when the food just slipped off the plate. It only
takes one wave to cause a "misfortune" with extensive
curses. At least we could always find a cosy place on board.
Otherwise, the days consisted mostly of sleeping, reading, navigating and keeping watch – not particularly exciting. The first week, we covered 800 nm, and it felt like weeks had passed. This, of course, was due to our wake/sleep rhythm. Every four hours, we relieved each other on watch, so each day felt like two or three days.
On the 9th day at sea, Martin suddenly got facial spasms. They didn’t last long, but they reoccurred six times in 24 hours. After consulting my brother Holger, magnesium seemed to be the drug of choice. We didn't have anything else on board that could help, but taking it daily did the trick and the spasms didn't come back.
On 11.11. we still
had 1111.11 nm to go. Happy
Shrovetide!
At
noon on November 12th, we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn and were
officially no longer in the tropics. Despite this, temperatures
hovered in the mid-20s. Pleasant!
We were well taken care of
with weather forecasting. On the one hand, we received a daily update
from Henning, at the Competence Center Hamburg. On the other hand, we
were able to talk to Christian, our friend from the Bay of Islands,
via ham radio. A veteran sailor, Christian has extensive experience
with NZ weather. We were also able to receive the NZ weather fax,
which normally gave us a good overview for a maximum of 72 hours,
although the picture was often distorted. All of this together helped
us come up with a strategy.
Passing Niue, we recorded a 100 nm lead over our two buddy boats. At this point, we altered our agreed course and took a more southerly direction. When we all left together, we thought our buddy boats would be much faster than us – they always say length counts. We never expected that we would have such a lead. And on the more southerly course, we continued to increase our lead. Most days were very overcast, but the wind force decreased. We could still sail, but our progress was slow.
The batteries urgently needed to be recharged – not much output from the solar panels with the cloud cover – so we ran the engine. A couple of two-hour sessions did the job. Henning promised us a day of changing light winds. That meant flat seas, allowing me to bake a cake. Cooking in general was much more enjoyable that day. The supply situation on board was good. Since we were faster than planned up to this point, we knew the fresh vegetables would last to NZ.
Sunset
For
almost two days, we were caught in a NE current of at least 1.5
knots. We were unable to lay our course to the SW correctly, or get
Taiko to sail well, because we could not pick up speed and had a
tacking angle of almost 180°. All things considered, it was an
immensely frustrating time for the captain. Despite ten knots of
southerly wind, we could only steer west, and that at only two knots.
From time to time we resorted to the “diesel wind”. We could lay
our course then, but we still only made 3.7 knots. Between Mexico and
French Polynesia, we had a bad current for a
week, but we had
time then. Now, on our way to NZ, we felt we shouldn’t take that
time.
With such good conditions, I even had the time and motivation to bake another cake. As Martin says, "We Germans can have coffee and cake at any time of the day or night”. So, we cut the cake at midnight when the watch changed, and served it with a nice hot cup of Milo.
On
11/18 at 10:00 a.m. ship time we crossed the date line, and only 430
nm remained to Opua. Now we had even lighter winds, and the speed
dropped significantly, to the point where we considered whether it
was better to start the engine to be slightly faster, or to accept
the slower progress. We decided not to burn diesel. All in all we've
been really lucky with the weather so far. All the predicted
disruptions have changed in our favour in good time. So far we have
been able to sail the entire way (with only a few hours of motor
sailing). We have not had any fronts with strong winds or rain, and
we hoped it would stay that way.
Our thoughts automatically went
forward. What would await us upon arrival? Because of the pandemic,
all countries between French Polynesia and NZ are closed to sailors.
Fiji has an expensive special arrangement and is not really on our
way. Calling at Minerva or Beverage Reef is also not allowed. NZ
tracks all boats via AIS. In addition, since COVID, you can only
check in at Opua, in the Bay of Islands. For us, this means that we
cannot call at Whangarei directly.
Additionally, NZ requires a
minimum of 12 days (non-stop) at sea or an expensive quarantine in an
Auckland hotel, although, since our crossing will definitely last
longer than these prescribed 12 days, this is irrelevant to us. When
we arrive in Opua, we will probably have two days at the quarantine
dock until our virus tests come back. We will then not be allowed to
leave Opua until the state posts the import taxes to her account, as
Taiko has never been to NZ. Since Martin is Kiwi and I have permanent
residence there, the boat must be imported immediately upon entering
the country. Only when all of this is complete can we move on. Our
thoughts revolve around all these things, but first we have to get
there.
Just before dark, black clouds stretched like a wall across the horizon. When the wind rose to 22 knots, we took in a reef. A short time later, now in the dark, we had to put in a second reef. Within another hour, we had reefed a total of four panels, with the wind now constant at 37 knots. That much wind isn't really a problem for Taiko, but the rising swell was uncomfortable. What a sound Taiko makes, falling into a hole and landing hard. It's always amazing what a boat can withstand. Luckily we were through the front in six hours, and the wind dropped. The waves, however, stayed with us for quite a while, such that any task we undertook was a shaky affair, earning us a few more boat kisses. Martin had more trouble keeping his balance and hurt himself several times.
The motion from the waves caused another airlock in the fridge, too, stopping it cold. Now we knew what was going on, though, and in the morning, when the sea was a little calmer, the problem was quickly resolved. Now we could slowly count down the miles. And we only had two more nights to go. The wind became less, and over time the wave motion became more bearable. Henning wasn't sure if we could sail the whole last stretch. Maybe we could even motor the last few miles, he said. It didn't look so bad after all, so close to the finish line.
That morning we finally hooked our first fish, a big tuna. I fought him for over half an hour to bring him next to the boat. Straight away, he “spooled” us, pulling all the line off the reel. There is a little screw on the reel axle to which the line is attached, and he pulled that screw out, too. Luckily, the line stayed on the screw, and the screw wouldn’t fit through the guide on the reel. Quickly, I found something to wind the line onto, taking the stress off the reel, so I could put the screw back in place. Then I could gradually reel in line, little by little, as the brute pulled some back out. Martin luffed up to the wind, stopping the boat so we could land him, but when I finally had the fish along side of the boat, he simply pulled half the spool off again. That was a fight. When we finally had him along side of the boat again, Martin tried to lift him out of the water with just the line. Well, everything being heavier out of the water, that didn’t work. The snap-swivel holding the lure onto the leader simply bent open, and whoops, away swam the monster, taking the hook and the lure with him, and leaving us just staring into space. It looked like it was probably an albacore tuna over a meter long, which would have weighed about 60 kg. Too bad, it would have tasted superb.
On the other hand, we had an excellent sailing day, good conditions, and we made good progress. So we expected to arrive in the next 24-36 hours. Hooray!
However,
we were worried about Martin's balance. Again it affected the left
side. We assumed another flare-up or side effect from the
vaccination, as the doctor in French Polynesia had told us. We knew
he needed to see a doctor as soon as he got on land. With Christian’s
help, we were able to talk to a doctor via Maritime Radio. A stroke
was ruled out, and we were promised that an ambulance would be ready
when we arrived. The wind was still enough to sail, but the
authorities asked us to increase our speed and get close to land as
soon as possible. So we ran the engine the whole night.
Martin's condition worsened dramatically. He was restless, completely desperate and disoriented. Every time I looked around the cockpit, he'd climb out of the bunk again and fall in the saloon. It took a long time to get him safely back into the bunk, and it was hard for me to keep him there. In addition to navigating and sailing the boat, I also had to rest. I knew that when you arrive near the coast, you need your full concentration to get safely into port. I was also worried about Martin. At dawn we spoke to Maritime Radio again. They sent the customs boat and a helicopter out to take Martin off. Customs was a great help with this, coming out to us on the ocean with a speedboat. They took care of communications with everyone, as well as the transfer between Taiko and the helicopter. Since there was fog on the coast, we waited for the transfer out on the open sea. Even though the sea was exceptionally flat, the helicopter's rotor blades sent the Customs dinghy into a whirlpool. What would a rescue operation look like in rough weather?
When the paramedic got on board, he spoke briefly to Martin, then went back into the cockpit to speak to the pilot. His back was to Martin, whose back was to me, so neither of us were able to break Martin’s fall, as he smashed onto the cockpit floor and hit his head on the seat. The transfer into the customs boat was also dramatic. Ultimately, however, the transfer to the helicopter went without further injuries.
I
was then allowed to sail the last few miles alone. Clearance was
quick and effective. I was expected at the quarantine dock. First,
the health department gave me a Covid test, which was then evaluated
urgently. Then the customs papers were filled out, and then the
formalities for agriculture were taken care of. Less than an hour
after all the formalities, I received the negative Covid report.
After five hours, I was released from quarantine and was able to put
Taiko on a mooring and rush to the hospital in Whangarei. It's not
exactly the arrival we wanted, but we ended up in the right place at
the right time.
We are very satisfied with Taikos performance. For the 2,550 nm between French Polynesia and NZ, we needed just under 20 days. Nothing broke on the boat, although two coffee cups lost their handles
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