Subject: Sailing
Date: Tue, 15 Dec 1998 08:57:11 EST
From: Kitengele <bugzy@MIT.EDU>

Friends of mine are currently sailing around the world with their three
kids (5-14yrs).  Below is their lastest trip report from their route
from Tonga to NZ.  it is worth reading if you have a minute.

------- Forwarded Message
We now have good email access here in NZ, for the next 5 months or so.
We are sending this to all intersted parties.  Feel free to pass it on
if we've not listed someone. But we have intentionally omitted Sarah's
parents (gwynfryn) from this particular story for the time being.

We were surrounded by paradise - Kelefisia, a tiny island in Tonga, off
the beaten track, with a tiny anchorage, beautiful scenary and
fantastic snorkeling among colorful coral heads all around the boat,
There were four friendly fisherman camping on the island who brought
us five fresh fish every afternoon.  We had to leave as cyclone season
was upon us, but taking the plunge was so hard.  The talk for the past
month had been weather, weather, weather and how to tackle the NZ trip.

The topic had gained anominous flavor, and we spent hours hashing it
around with other yachties.

The challenge was to leave the tropics before a cyclone hit, but miss
the frequent spring and early summer storms off the NZ coast.

Some opted for high fee five day forecasts, or had connections with BOC
weather forcasters, others spend hours tracking weather faxes and
planning strategies. The boats currently enroute were hit by a storm
down by NZ as we waited, and one woman on a British boat was lost,
another boat was lost,and two more boats lost their rigs.  Many boats
had a very uncomfortable time.  We patched sails, checked the rig and
did what we could to prepare for rough weather.  We talked with friends
on "Freya" in Nuko'alofa about when to jump off. " Why are we so psyched
out by this trip, we've all handled 40 knots before?"  But big storms
were known to hit with little warning, like the Queen's birthday storm
of 94. We checked in with Des on Russell Radio based in New Zealand, and
got confidence from his friendly laid back voice, wanting the perfect 10
day weather window he couldn't give us.  Trying to put it in perspective
we enjoyed the peace with our friends on "Fledgeling" - the only other
boat anchored at the island.  They tempted us to stay another night with
some cold G and T's.  We borrowed their kayaks to circumnavigate the
island and think about our departure.  Back on Margarita a light breeze
stirred and suddenly we decided to go. We called the kids in from the
beach, had a last swim in glorious tropical water, hauled anchor, sailed
around Fedgeling yelling good wished and headed out through the reef
pass.

The first couple of days were calm, too calm.  Good for stomachs, we
hardly knew we were in the deep ocean offshore.  We poked along at three
and four knots.  No autopilot and not enough fuel to motor the whole
1050 miles meant we didn't want to motor flat out, but slow speeds meant
using up our clear weather period, so we constantly wrestled with the
decision of how much to motor.  At night we were content to drift along
at two knots, but80 mile days did not give us peace of mind.  We checked
in daily with our cruising net of friends heading south from Tonga, and
with the ham Seafarers net.  We also talked twice daily with Des. His
approach was to give weather as he saw it, and prognosis for the next
day - no promises for next week.  We reminded eachother that the
peacefulness of the passage was good, better than a wet pounding and it
gave us time to adjust to the the tiring watch schedule which always made
us feel like dogmeat for a couple of days.  We fell into a rythm, making
handicrafts for Emma's birthday, reading, plotting, sleeping, making
bread and growing sprouts.

Two days before Emma's birthday talk on the radio centered on a low
pressure system forming off Australia. In the evening we checked in with
Des." You're in a bit of a tight spot" he said " can't tell where the
low will track, you may sail right into it, go slowly, try to get a good
night's sleep and we will talk in the morning".  HELP.  Get a good
nights sleep.  We all huddled around the radio trying to see the weather
fax printouts and predict what would happen.  If the storm hit us the
timing would probably make it "Emma's birthday storm".  If we got lucky
that meant our friends further south might get hit.  However, lows
sometimes melted into nothing.  Next morning Des reassured us that it
looked like the storm would track well east and we could proceed on
down.  All canvas up we sailed as fast as we could in the light wind.

During the day we made VHF contact with two other boat friends, Hio Ave,
who we had been in touch with on the SSB radio, and "Sara" , who had no
HF transmission capabilites and who people had been worried about for a
couple of days.  We reported their position in to Des so he could pass
it on.  It was cosy to be able to call friends at odd times during the
day to discuss conditions or sail repair, exchange jokes, whatever.
Cass on "Sarah" had dengue fever, and so Skip was singlehanding and
sounded very tired.  The stress was fraying everybodies nerves too.

That eveing checking in with Des he again told us to sit tight.  The low
had altered course again and was unpredictable.  Also it was stacking up
against a large high, so the large pressure gradient indicated very
strong winds.  Whew, having this weather forecasting was a mixed
blessing.  Back off Easter Island when we had no way of predicting
weather beyond clouds and barometer we dealt with the gales as they
came.  Here we had days to prepare and sweat.  So we plodded along at 1
to 2 knots, going nowhere and obsessing.  The next morning the weather
check-in was good news for us, but not for others.  The storm was
tracking south, off the east coast of NZ, and was going to be strong,
passing over several boats in the fleet that were close to making
landfall.  Advice was to seek shelter (hard to do 100+ miles out) or
prepare for heavy weather.  In the eveing things sounded more grim.  On
the southbound net our friends on Freya did not check in.  Word was that
they were going to lie to a sea anchor and wait for the storm to pass.
One boat, "Destiny", sailed by a delivery skipper and mate, had taken
evasive action for the last day by sailing north, away from New Zealand.
Two other boats, only 30 miles out, were going in to Opua, expecting to
anchor by midnight.  We could hear the tension in their voices as they
reported conditions, already blowing over 40, one boat had blown out
their yankee jib, and was sailing along with just a staysail at 8 1/2
knots.  We felt for them, with their two toddlers on board, and could
imagine so well how they felt.  Making landfall on a lee shore in a
storm at night would not be easy.  We went to bed with a knot in our
stomachs worrying about everybody, and relieved for ourselves that we
were not in the centre.  Winds were expected to exceed 70 knots and it
was blowing 50 in the bay of islands by the time we went to sleep.  And
these boats had left when the weather window was supposed to be good!!

In the morning we checked in early with Des, and he reported that he was
worried about Freya as they had missed a 6:00 am radio sched with him
that they had been very keen on making.  That might mean they had lost
their SSB which might mean a lost mast.  He asked for names of the
crew on Freya.

The 13 year old boy was a friend of our kids, we had spend time buddy
boating with them in French Polynesia, so we felt very concerned.  Other
news through the day was not good.  By late afternoon we were getting a
fairly uncomfortable swell from the storm, even though we were 500 miles
away.  Finally we overheard Des talking about a helicopter rescue to
another boat.  We called him immediately to ask if that was our
friends.

Apparently the crew had been lifted off Freya in 80 knot winds and 45 ft
seas.  The conditions were so bad that it was at the limits of the
rescue crews' capabilities.  Apparently the boat had been rolled 4 times
and lost the mast and hatches and was taking on water.  Everyone on
board was OK!!  Another boat did not fare so well.  They had issued a
Mayday, and a container ship had been called to attempt a rescue.  The
skipper was able to make it on board, but the female crew was lost, and
the boat disappeared, presumabley from a collision with the container
ship, all that was found was floating debris.  We had read countless
stories of terrible storms and tragedies at sea, but knowing the people
on Freya well, and having spent hours on the boat that was now
presumably sunk put a whole different light on things.  We all imagined
over and over what it had been like out there.  It was too awful to
contemplate.  The difference between 50 knots and 80 is enourmous.


We called the boats in VHF range to talk it over.  Hio Ave were going
through a front at the time with 35 knots and uncomfortable seas and
felt very low.  Shortly afterwards we hit the same weather, we reefed
down and got the boat going ok, but our confidence was shaken, and we
didn't feel like dealing with it.  Luckily only a few hours later we
passed under the edge of the line of clouds into clear blue and the wind
dropped.  The seas remained lumpy for a couple of days but nothing
bad.

After that we felt desperate to get this trip over with.  The storm,
reportedly the worst fisherman had seen in 30 years, slowly passed to
the south and we felt we had a few days clear before another would blow
up.  We kicked the engine in when our speed fell below 4 knots, and
the miles seemed to crawl agonizingly by.  Emma had her birthday
successfuly, complete with cake (which was close since the propane for
the stove ran out the next day with two lovely loaves of bread ready to
go in the oven.

We talked ourselves back into a positive mood.  It felt so good to share
the ups and downs with the crew on Hio Ave, who felt exactly the same as
us.  We felt fortunate we had dilly dallied in Tonga, and they felt
relieved their propeller had come loose there, causing them to wait two
extra days.  It sometimes feels like a real crapshoot out there.

Two days out of NZ we starting feeling safe.  The future looked clear,
an= d the lows seem to take at least two days from inception to the time
they start causing trouble.  At last we were within reach. Finally we
motored into Opua at 1:00am in beautiful calm with a full moon and
grabbed a quarantine mooring buoy.  Douglas woke up and helped with
lines. The girls stirred and asked why the engine was off ..."we're
here, Hooray!!'.  We sat in the cockpit with a nice large scotch and
relished the truly euphoric feeling of being here, the passage over, and
no passages for months.  New Zealand seemed such a friendly place.

Sarah

- ------- End of Forwarded Message


------- End of Forwarded Message

