Latitude: 17°44.20'S Longitude: 168°18.59'E
As there was almost no wind, the beginning of the trip was pleasant enough. Aurora Ulani didn't get seasick, thanks to medication against motion sickness, and Liping didn't even bother to take her pills. The calm stayed with us for quite a while. Occasionally it was interrupted by violent squalls, so that we always had two reefs in the main at night and also had the genoa only partially unfurled. We didn't want to ruin any more sails. We destroyed two foresails so far, both in Micronesia. I kept an eye on our brand-new genoa from Lee Sails in Hong Kong. And we sure as hell didn't want another toggle to break (almost losing the mast) as had happened near Tarawa in Kiribati. Naturally our average speed was abysmally low, but we don't really care about "performance". Safety, reasonable comfort and above all avoiding costly damage are much higher on our list of priorities. When a particularly nasty squall darkened the whole horizon, we even took down sail altogether.
We did not use our engines at all. Apart from the high price of diesel, the noise, the vibration and the stink, there was another reason for that. When checking the port engine, I suddenly noticed a whole lot of engine oil in the bilge and after some consultation on the radio and various checks, I determined that the seal at the crankshaft had developed a big leak. Not possible to fix in the middle of nowhere. And just a couple of days later the belt broke on the other engine. I tried to put on a new belt and found out that I had been given belts that were too small, even though I had brought the old belt with me. I should have checked. I managed to get it on anyway, but decided to use the engines only in absolute emergencies. It wasn't all that different from previous trips, as we dislike motoring anyway. We much rather wait for a while until the wind comes back.
Somehow we made it as far as Butaritari, where the wind died completely. We drifted around for such a long time, that finally one of the big purse seiners dispatched a helicopter to see if we needed any assistance. Life was good with excellent food and every dinner in the cockpit was accompanied by one of the sixty bottles of white wine from Australia which a fishing master of a purse seiner had given us in Majuro. Sometimes Aurora Ulani spent part of the night watch with me, while Liping was busy teaching her the names of the planets, stars and constellations. And, of course, continuing with the second year of Calvert School. Right now we are at Lesson 43.
Then there was a male/female couple of Mahi Mahi (Coryphaena hippuris) which followed us for a couple of days, a few boobies that visited us, as well as some red tailed tropicbirds (Phaeton rubricanda) and various schools of small dolphins.
On the tenth day I was working at the mast when suddenly the winch handle slipped out of the main halyard winch and crashed into my shin. There was an amazing amount of blood and I had visions of rust stains all over the foredeck. Liping started to cry when she saw the mess and I was busy pressing a wad of kitchen paper against the wound to try and stop the blood. Always a bit scary when you see that much blood in the middle of nowhere.
When the wind came back we sailed with six knots past Abaiang and then Betio on Tarawa atoll. We could have waved to our friends or called them on the cellphone, but we didn't have the right SIM-card anymore. So we just looked at the local fishermen in their tiny boats. Those guys often get lost at sea for real. However, they have all kinds of different fishing gear on board and their survival skills are absolutely amazing. Many of them get picked up alive and well after drifting for quite a few months.
After two weeks we crossed the equator. We could observe small pink Portuguese man-of-war (Physalia physalia) tacking against the wind as well as a turtle, which didn't quite trust our friendly intentions and took off in a hurry.
The wind went down to 0.0 knots and I could have used the surface of the ocean as a shaving mirror. Our HAM-radio friends offered moral support because of the lack of wind or they made jokes about our record-breaking progress. But except for the squalls we were quite happy. Our new black trampolines, made from a discarded purse seiner net, held up better than the original ones which offered way too much resistance to the water. We had left the two forward water tanks empty on purpose and instead of storing the dinghy on the foredeck, we had secured it in the davits in order to keep the weight forward as low as possible. And whenever the wind piped up, we reefed. We didn't ruin our sails and didn't break anything else either. The only thing I missed was a cold beer and I even considered starting brewing again there and then.
After three weeks things changed rather abruptly. Our autopilot went into standby mode more and more often, which caused all kinds of trouble. At first I thought this happened because I hadn't trimmed the sails correctly. But that wasn't it, as these things even happened under engine alone. Then the wind instruments gave erroneous readings, which was quite annoying especially at night. Finally the Garmin-GPS (which is connected directly to the autopilot) repeatedly switched itself off and was difficult to get started again. The wind picked up quite a bit and the weather forecast spoke of "very rough seas" around Vanuatu. There was bad weather in Tonga and Fiji, too. Yet another perfect arrival...
Since we didn't want to enter Port Vila in darkness, we took down all sail. Once it got light, we were underway again. Just when the wind went up above 30 knots (I remembered Irishman Connie saying that everything above 30 knots means business) our big port genoa winch decided to quit. The self-tailer broke, the sheet got jammed, Liping started to panic and a steady stream of most horrible swearwords burst from my mouth. A wave slammed into our side and I could hear all kinds of stuff falling and breaking inside. All this within sight of the bay.
Two other sailboats were making for safe harbor, so that I had to keep an eye out for those guys as well. As soon as we were through the entrance, a launch with officials told us where to anchor - very close to other boats on moorings and with no chance to pay out sufficient chain - and when the quarantine man had inspected our boat, I saw that one monohull near us had totally destroyed her genoa. We had been comparatively lucky, as our sails were still intact. A bit of wear at the Sunbrella UV protection strip where the sail rubs against the spreaders, that was about it.
I took off in a hurry to clear customs (it was Friday) and pay the high fees when I heard someone call my name. James from Majuro, formerly crew on the superyacht KE AMA II, invited me to a cold beer. We had been sailing for 24 days and with our average speed of only 3 knots we must have set some new record for slowness. Catamarans are supposed to be fast, right?
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Monday we applied for Liping's visa for New Zealand and were told that it would take three weeks. Then we checked out the place. Tourists everywhere, big cruise ships calling often. A little black helicopter kept taking off and landing on a small pontoon right next to our boat. When buying baguettes and brie at "Au Bon Marche", I was reminded of prices in Tahiti. The open air vegetable market was affordable and excellent though, as were the numerous Chinese shops. We would have good food and our spirits rose a couple of notches. We met friendly people and Mr. Tan drove us all over the place, so we could buy proper rain-gear and rubber boots.
KE AMA II was here and we met with the crew again. They only had a few days before taking off to New Zealand. Now boats are leaving all the time, as the cyclone season in the South Pacific officially starts on 1 November. They are very rare here, though. It is much more likely to run into a late winter storm in the vicinity of New Zealand, which is why some experienced people leave as late as December.
When we went to the pharmacist, he told us that he wouldn't bother with the malaria pills here in Port Vila. Insect repellent and long sleeves should be more than enough - and we didn't see anybody in long pants here. Since Panama I am wearing my swimming shorts everywhere and I guess I will change into long pants somewhere on the way to Whangarei.
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Every morning at 5:30 we are awakened by our cellphone. I make a big bowl of hot lemon tea - nights are cool - and putter about until the girls are up and ready.
The day begins very early here and at lunchtime people enjoy a lengthy siesta. At 6:00 a.m. there's the "Rag of the Air" net on the HF radio with weather for the whole South Pacific. At 7:00 a.m. it is followed by the German SSB net with individual weather for every participating yacht. And at 8:15 a.m. there is the local VHF net which is mostly done by our friends on the Belgian trimaran SLOEPMOUCHE - American Chinese Jacky does the weather - and by Ivan from the "Namba Wan Cafe". At that time we are often ashore, if Liping is not doing a Calvert Lesson with Aurora Ulani.
We don't have all that much contact with the other boats, who are mostly wealthy retirees on their very first trip. Different wavelength. Almost all on a mooring or even in the marina. They go shopping and eat in fancy restaurants, dress up nicely and interact mostly with each other.
Our breakfast is rather French and except for the Brie, it is very inexpensive. Pate of deer or wild boar, various cheeses, fresh cherry tomatoes and so on. Yum! Yum! Lunch is often the same or sometimes a small Chinese dish. Dinner often an elaborate Chinese dinner accompanied by white wine and recently quite a bit of steak. Vanuatu is a land of cows and beef is very inexpensive here. Suits us just fine.
In the afternoon I often work on the boat. Recently I constructed a rain-catcher, this time out of the smallest tarp I could find. Reinforced blue plastic. I sewed in a hollow PVC pipe and added a few more grommets. I tied it to the lifelines and at the other side to a broomstick, which I have lashed to the bimini. Of course it started to rain, which I was in the middle of it. But this time, it actually helped me, as I could change things around to make it more efficient. I put a plastic through-hull in the middle, added a clear tube which goes into a 25 liter container. In the evening I had caught 260 liters of first class drinking water and our tanks were full to the brim. Success!
Before dinner a hot shower out of our trusty garden sprayer. Extremely useful, that simple device. We get by with less water than any other boat that we know. And still have a hot shower every day, even while underway. Absolutely no need for a water-maker or a ton of water in the tanks.
Of course there are numerous problems as well. A bilge pump I had bought and installed in Majuro died. Ditto a float switch. Amazing that they apparently can't build anything that really lasts on a boat. Both engines and sail-drives are in need of a good mechanic, there are leaks all over the place and the headliner problem looks unbelievably ugly. It is time for a proper boatyard.
Therefore I have booked with http://www.norsand.co.nz/ , a boatyard in Whangarei. They have been recommended by Kaspar & Steffi on CELUANN (Catana 43) as well as by another catamaran, NOUVELLE VIE II (Catana 47). We intend to leave the boat on the hard there while we are spending Christmas and my parents' 50-year golden wedding anniversary on 23 January in Flensburg, Germany. We have not decided yet whether we will have any work done in our absence, but we do have a connection with fellow yachtie Warrick from JEMELLIE. He, his father in law and his friend (marine diesel mechanic) work on yachts in Whangarei when they are not out there sailing.
Once the boat is ready and the weather is good, we might come back here for a while and then continue our circumnavigation across the Indian Ocean to South Africa, then across the Atlantic once more and finally back to the Caribbean. But all that is far into the future and we have been known to change our plans now and again. Who knows, we might sail to Asia and stay there for a while.
Or we might stay down in the high latitudes and sail with the westerlies all the way back to the Marquesas. Or even further.
--
Holger Jacobsen
S/V DHARMA BUM III
YACHT-IN-TRANSIT
Port Vila, Vanuatu
