Aboard Dignity (Lagoon 420) Blog

We began the day as we ended the night with just the jib out riding the rough swell and continued in this manner all morning. Paul got the first sighting of land and we all rushed out to peer into the distance and see the island of -Matuku through the mist. The sight of land switched us all into a feeling of arrival, out of our passage mode. Excitement was rising.

After lunch we raised the main keeping in the 2 reefs from our previous days surfing experience. As the afternoon progressed and into the evening the seas showed signs of calming. This set the stage for a fantastic night passage.

The sea temperature is now 92F and the air temperature over 70 all night long. For my 8-11 watch I just sat outside with nowt on but my undies (all but one of my shorts are soaked with salt water) listening (and often singing) to music. The moon lit the ocean. I was sprayed a couple of times but nothing major. A shower, at the end of my watch, cleaned me off.

I understand from Paul that Helen had a great watch too. I’m pleased as she’s not overly enjoyed this passage. Night watch can be miserable but sometimes it can be a thrill.

Paul was pooped a couple of times. I think he has a different relationship with Neptune.

Our ETA for Savusavu is currently sometime after 1pm. This may change when we make our turn around the island of Koro as the wind will be more behind us and the main is likely to start shading the jib.

All in all the passage hasn’t been too bad but certainly this tropics down and back to NZ has been our toughest two legs. We had expected to take eight days and it’s taking us nine. But then we did slow down to under half speed for a couple of days to try and avoid some bad weather – putting us into some other bad weather later.

A full and good nights sleep will be an excellent reward. A beer on arrival will be an excellenter reward. They’re in the fridge. Ready.

When we stop I will have to pull up our bunk and attend to our port shaft seal. It has leaked all the way over at varying rates. It’s never really got any worse but the alarm tends to go off once or twice an hour. Because of the noise of passage we don’t hear it downstairs. It’ll drive us mad once we’ve stopped. So some more grease will be squeezed in. I know this stops it until we move on. One of the things we’ll do ashore today/tomorrow is research our options to beach the boat and replace the seal.

What a difference an hour makes. And we’ve had a few of those recently.

An hour after I last blogged squalls formed behind the boat. Squalls are, to varying degrees, rain clouds which show on the radar as blobs and are frequently accompanied by strong and variable winds. Understandably one tries to be out of their way. In the morning light air I jibed this way and that to stay out of the path of the main one bearing down on us, at one point sailing perpendicular to our course.

A line of squalls is usually associated with some change in the weather. Behind these squalls came a block of humid air with a slight wind shift. We sailed on through the day dodging a few more squalls while the seas rose in height. We were now in 4m swells which weren’t too bad as they were quite smooth.

By mid-afternoon a new set of ominous squalls formed behind us. By now we had one reef in the main which I thought, for now, was enough. As the line of squalls passed around us the seas pickup up to 5m and the wind picked up in strength. We began surfing down the huge waves making up to 13-14 knots at times. Picture the beginning of the Poseidon Adventure. Now get that out of your mind as it wasn’t that bad. But it sort of felt like it.

The rain was pouring down now and the winds at 30 knots too strong for one reef. So we turned the boat into the wind and the huge swell and put a second reef in the main. The surfing continued. On the radar we could see the edge of the storm we were in that had passed over us previously. We soon caught it up and stayed surfing at the leading, rough edge of the storm for about an hour.

It was now 5 in the evening and dusk approaching. Despite the thrill (my word) of the moment this was no way to sail overnight so we decided to lower the main. This turned out to be quite challenging. We turned the boat into what soon ramped up to 40 knot winds and smashed into the swell. Helen took position at the mast and helped the sail down. I gave the helm over to Paul so I could go on the bimini roof and close the sail bag. I ended up sliding around on my knees hanging on to the boom getting nowhere. Helen, having tried to raise the lazy jacks a little found herself unable to do anything more than hang onto the lines. I returned, sorted out the lazy jacks, grabbed my harness and tether and adjusted the topping lift and main sheet to make the boom more steady. I went back up and tried again this time having a little more success. I was able to half close the sail bag but the wind was inflating the front of the main making the bag not only impossible to close further but threatened to push the zip back open. I had Paul turn the boat downwind which took the wind out of the lowered sail allowing me to close the bag.

While I was busy tying the bag closed a few feet of the jib escaped resulting in the job sheets flaying around. I was in the way of all this still sorting things out so I was glad when Helen and Paul got this under control.

With everything tied down and the boat running downwind we could retire to the cabin, all of us soaking wet. That set the stage for the night watches. With 35 knot winds and, initially, pouring rain and a tiny amount of headsail out we maintained course for Fiji, now back on for a Sunday arrival. Overnight the rain broke and the winds died down to the high 20s where they are right now. Being outside had it’s risks as every now and then a wave would manage to break over the side of the boat soaking everything. Paul seemed to like being out there but for Helen and I there is no novelty in this.

The seas and wind have moved around more to the east and more on our beam making the ride a little more wild. At this point everyone thinks the overtime fees for a Sunday arrival will be money well spent.

A long and very drawn out day. We entered the convergence zone to the west of the low pressure system that would inevitably cause mayhem should we get too close. Our hopes to miss the bulk of the rain and nasty weather may have been realized but it has been hard to tell as we’ve had a wet, bumpy and somewhat miserable 24 hours. At one point our outside cabin was pooped and filled with water. Fortunately no one was outside at the time otherwise they’d have had a salty bath. Of the three of us, Paul seems to be enjoying himself in these conditions although the novelty does seem to be wearing off him.

Listening to the others in our mini-fleet we are relieved to hear that all are ok as we traverse this weather system and no one, it seems, is having to battle against the weather. The seas may be rough but at least they’re behind us.

It’s hard for ones mood not to follow the conditions. When the skies are clear and bright, our spirits are lifted to the same point. When it’s overcast, dreary and miserable, so become we.

Despite all this passage making is a very unique experience. Being so totally cut off from the world changes things in ways that are hard to describe. We do get the odd email from family and friends and they are always welcome. But apart from that, the outside world could hardly be there.

It is now dawn. Gray and ominous clouds surround us. To the left, right and behind it looks grim. Ahead there are areas of brightness. Not blue skies but breaks in the lower black clouds revealing brightness above. Perhaps a sign that things will improve as the day progresses.

At our current course and speed our ETA for Savusavu is Sunday morning. That presents a dilemma as there are overtime fees to pay if we check in over the weekend. One option is to slow down and arrive on Monday. Helen’s position is clear. She’ll gladly pay the extra for one less day passage.

One day can make a lot of difference. The clouds spent the day gradually showing us a little more blue sky. The 4 meter seas lessened a little and lost their raggedy edge. The sea and air temperature both inched up and we felt as if we were back in the tropics, sailing the trades. We even had to turn on the fans in our berth when we went for a rest. Earlier low feeling were now soaring. That’s what it’s like on passage. Confined to the surrounds of the boat surrounded by the ever changing elements our emotions begin to amplify. Helen, for a while, got into arrival day minus two mode. This is when contemplation of imminent landfall brings an additional high.

But one night can also make a lot of difference. Overnight the winds have dropped. Helen’s not going to be too happy when she wakes and learns that right now we’re struggling to make a Monday arrival.

Once it is light we’ll throw up the Code Zero which should improve our ETA.