Sun, 25 May 2003
The Good:
We arrived safely in Fiji. No equipment breakage. No one was injured.
(Others suffered broken rudder bearings, a broken forestay (both boats returning to New Zealand many days out), ripped sails, lost solar panels and stanchions along with engine and autopilot troubles.)
The Bad:
After considering weather faxes, we thought we had a respectable weather window. We had a high over New Zealand that we figured would block any lows from passing across during the trip and produce light winds. Since Velella excels in light winds and flatter water, we expected a decent trip in mellow conditions.
Boy did we mess up our weather forecasting! We failed to consider how intense the high had become. Intense highs can produce strong winds. During our trip, we understand a low developed north of us and created a bit of a squash zone of strong winds, directly from our destination. While the first 6 hours were pleasant, after that the wind continued to build each day. We experienced numerous squalls with heavy downpours and widely variable winds (10 knots or less suddenly becoming 40 knots or more, making sail selection tremendously frustrating). In hindsight, we could have saved ourselves a lot of discomfort if we had diverted to New Caledonia as we had discussed many times, but thinking we’d already seen the worst of it we hung on, intent on returning to Fiji.
We beat 1150 miles to Fiji in mostly 25-40 knots and 15 foot seas, water continuously cascading over the boat.
Upon arrival we had to wait before we could clear in to avoid steep overtime charges, which means we were unable to get off the boat for another 48 hours.
The Ugly:
Beating in strong winds and big seas is incredibly unpleasant. Life aboard was reduced to the barest of essentials. Our time was mostly reduced to sitting up with our eyes open or laying down with our eyes closed, but always damp. Most normal passage activities such as general hygiene, navigation, reading, sleeping, eating, candy snacks, listening to the radio were often too much trouble and considered optional.
To prevent water getting into the boat, we had all hatches and openings dogged tight, eliminating all ventilation. Clothes that got wet in the first 6 hours remained wet for the next 10 days. We discovered leaks. Water could get in but no moisture could get out, creating a humid, suffocating environment inside. We began to notice water accumulating on the floor in the head, and it soon became evident that this wasn’t simple sea water but saltwater based sewage.
A description of the typical routine aboard reveals just how ugly it got: Wake up (assuming that we had been sleeping through the jarring motion and the noise), coat rear end with diaper rash cream, pull on soggy wet clothes hopefully without falling into something, heat up something from a can, serve in cockpit with a single spoon eating directly out of the pot, Rinse pot and spoon in ocean and return to stovetop, Sit in saltwater puddle in the cockpit for 3 hours through regular saltwater dousings, At the end of the watch remove soggy wet clothing, Open thru hulls, Bail sewage lake, Pump manual bilge and sewage tank, Close thru hulls, Disinfect hands, Sponge down body with freshwater dipped wash cloth, Wipe saltwater sewage off feet, Climb into damp smelly bunk and try to get some sleep. Repeat every 3 hours.
We are sitting in dirty Suva harbor, nursing our bruises, our diaper rash and cleaning up the mess. All future planning is suspended until our short term memory banks have been cleared.
Cheers,
Wendy Hinman and Garth Wilcox
S/V Velella (Wylie 31)