Showing posts with label bad weather. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bad weather. Show all posts

Tuesday, December 23, 2014

Twenty Shades of Grey (and Brown)

The rainy season in the Pacific has arrived with a vengeance. Two weeks ago, Mark and I hoped to take advantage of the “perfect” weather window (N-NW winds) to sail back to Raiatea (SE) from Maupiti. Despite the favorable predictions and us waiting for them, reality turned out different again. We ended up motoring the whole way, with little wind from behind and one squall after another. A very wet ride, but at least the decks were rinsed and we reached our destination safely, after waiting out another shower before entering the NW pass of Raiatea. And, it beat beating into the wind!

Since then, the sky has turned every shade of grey and we have been able to collect a lot of rain water, while working on our computers indoors and on projects outdoors, during the random dry spell. The times to be frugal with fresh water are over, while the times to be careful with electricity have begun. Our plan was to spend a couple of weeks in Raiatea with reliable WiFi access to finish up the final work and arrangements for the launching of our new Wirie products and head to Huahine for Christmas.

Then, about a week ago, the weather models went berserk and turned very colorful, meaning something serious was up. Two gales (major storms, one with the possibility to turn into a cyclone) were predicted to come our way and we swapped our pretty and convenient reef anchorage near the town of Uturoa for a more protected, but remote bay in Taha’a. The incessant rain has since turned the water of this deep bay brown and browner and the first storm has passed without too much trouble. Irie handled the heavy, erratic wind gusts like a charm and, once again, we are so very happy with our trustworthy, over-sized Manson Supreme anchor.

Our friends on SV Heartbeat and SV Namaste are in the same anchorage, for the same reasons, so we are in good company. As always – but this time in our benefit – the weather forecasts keep changing and we are keeping a close eye on the developments. The second storm seems to have lost some of its viciousness, but is still going to hit us tonight. As of now, the nasty weather will last about 48 hours, so it will be a quiet and vigilant Christmas on Irie this year! 
      
                     
  Motoring back to Raiatea  
            
  Time to use the foul weather jacket

      
  Squalls approaching Irie     
            
  Replacing a seal on the outboard engine

  
Monique and Garth in their new, home build dinghy

 More rain
           
  
Deep and protected Haamene Bay in Taha’a       

 Merry Christmas (Uturoa)
           
  
 Muddy water in the bay     

  
 Waiting in Haamene

Friday, November 7, 2014

Hawaiki Nui Va’a Races: Lots of Canoes and Even More Water


Mark and I left our pretty and shallow anchoring spot near motu Aito for three reasons: a change of scenery, supposedly decent WiFi (from an internet service we still had soon to expire credit of) and to do some hikes in Taha’a’s interior. We would return after a few days for the annual canoe races. Once we arrived in Haamene Bay on the east coast of Taha’a, the weather changed for the worst. The rain became more incessant, the already murky bay turned orange/brown and the hiking trails melted into piles of mud. More than a quick walk through town and up a hill was not feasible. The scenery was nothing special and the expected and needed internet was fluky at best. In between rain showers, we lifted anchor and gladly motored the 7 miles back to our – so far – favorite Raiatea anchorage, across from the capital Uturoa.

Every year, the Hawaiki Nui Va’a races take place in the Leeward Islands of the Societies. This year, over 80 va’a (skinny canoes with an outrigger), each with six experienced and mostly professional rowers, left Huahine for the first leg to Raiatea on November 5th.  It was another rainy day and while keeping an eye on the commotion in the distance – near the closest pass where the group would appear – with binoculars, we hoped for a dry period before the outriggers would reach the finish line. When the troupe of local fishing boats, ferries, catamarans, jetskis, skiffs, any other local craft, and helicopters moved closer to Uturoa, Mark and I braved the weather and jumped in our dinghy to join the fun. Despite the wind, the waves and the rain, we did not want to miss out on the biggest sports event in French Polynesia. Soon, we were part of the immense chaos of zipping boats, massive chop and wake, and the sounds of drumming, cheering voices, revving boat engines, and buzzing news and rescue helicopters.

While our little, almost invisible, dinghy bounced all over the place and drowned in some salty waves, I tried to take some pictures of the event. The movement of the boat and the stubborn rain did not create any impressive photos, but I hope the shots underneath provide a good glimpse and feel of what was going on. A nice surprise awaited us when we were ready to go ashore and find some shelter. Our friends Patrick and Rachel on SV Namaste had picked up a mooring ball on the sidelines of the event and we happily climbed onboard. It was great to see them and to catch up on the last six months. They had sailed all the way to Tonga and back, while we made our emergency visit to the States, explored Tahiti and Moorea and received visitors.

An hour into discovering the couple, a greater reunion took place, when – unexpectedly – Phil, ZoĆ« and their friend Scott showed up on SV Namaste. We had not seen the youngsters since Christmas in Taiohae, Nuku Hiva. It was a good reason to celebrate and soon, the rum went around and the mood of the day was established. We chatted, watched the start of the women’s and junior’s canoe races, went ashore to eat lunch and hang out, and became wetter and muddier, when the rain became a consistent downpour and the paths swampy rivers. In the evening, the three person crew of SV L’Obsession (a 45’ Lagoon catamaran) invited us and Rachel and Patrick over for good times aboard. Finally wearing a set of dry clothes by then, we enjoyed great company, food and drinks until 1am! Unfortunately, on the way back home, we were caught in another nasty squall, which produced more wet clothes and towels to contribute to the growing pile in Irie’s cockpit.

Blue skies again after a very rainy week!
On November 6th, the race would start from Raiatea and head to Taha’a. The rain had not subsided. When we were ready to brave it again and drop the dinghy, we realized that the start line would be out of reach of our slow mode of transportation, while the starting time was already upon us. We decided to stay home and dry instead. The day after, we were hoping to catch up with the race and join the rowers to Bora Bora with Irie. It would have been a great spectacle with an awesome local party at night, but, when we opened our eyes in the morning, it was pouring yet again and the sky did not look promising. The wind was blowing like crazy, just like the days prior. Around noon, the sun finally and surprisingly reappeared in all her glory and the amazing blue colors of the lagoon blinded us. By then, it was too late for us to get ready and head west, so instead we did laundry and felt a hint of regret not being able to be present during the finishing touches and celebrations of this year’s Hawaiki Nui.

Haamene valley full of palms

View of Haamene bay from the top of the hill

All our plants were swamped by the rain and some died

While it rains, we get work done: a router out of cardboard!

Mark and I reproduced a cardboard router based on the dimensions from the factory, to do some try outs

Haamene Bay in Taha'a after more rain

Chaos at the finish line of the first Hawaiki Nui leg

One of the first va'a to arrive in Raiatea

Passing the finish line

Paddling in sync

A cargo ship entering the commotion near the finish line

Finally rest after a long ocean passage

And a welcome sip of water

Skinny va'a with outrigger

The rowers don't mind the rain!

A last effort to the finish line

Patrick, Mark, Liesbet, Scott, Zoe, and Phil in Namaste's cockpit

The women's (vahini) race

Some of the heavily sponsored va'a onshore

A wet and muddy day!

The evening light casts some color on the busy inner harbor

Soaking wet and ready to head back to our boats

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

And It Did Get Worse

Didn’t I say we were safe at the dock of Apataki village? And that we could sit this weather system out over there? Well, I was wrong. And, didn’t I say that things can always be worse? Here, I was right!

With all the rain, the dock was a bit cleaner, and with a steady north wind, the mosquitoes stayed away, while we were pinned to shore. Every three hours – day and night - we needed to adjust our fenders, because of the tides moving Irie up and down and the funky currents moving us forward and backward. But, it was flat and comfy. On our first day of planned rest, we discovered that our credit card was used fraudulently, somewhere in the US. Great… This seems to happen to everyone at least once, but how do you deal with it from the middle of the Pacific?

The advantage of “living” in a village is that you can just walk off the boat and enter the one phone booth. Unfortunately, in French Polynesia, you cannot call an operator for a collect call from public phones, as we found out soon enough. To make a long, tedious, patient and frustrating story short: it took us ALL day to get through to an operator from a landline of a friendly villager to call our US bank collect. After the last hour, we understood that they would send new cards to Mark Kilty, Poste Restante, Village Niutahi, 98762 Apataki, Tuamotus, French Polynesia! We will see if and how that materializes!

During the night that followed, a massive squall hit us. 30+ knots of north wind smashed us against the dock and churned up the channel. Generally a pretty well protected spot from the North, East and South, the combination high winds and funky currents created chaos and Irie was wildly pitching attached by four lines to a cement dock. Again, not a good scene and this time, there was no getting away, even if we wanted to. Luckily, the storm only lasted half an hour, but we learned our lesson.  

When I jumped ashore to fix the fenders again at 4:30am – straight out of bed, so buck naked – there was already a fisherman on the dock. Oooops.  In the morning – after retrieving the latest weather forecast with 20 – 30 knots of predicted northwest winds (add 5 knots to be more accurate) – we decided to leave once more. Just imagine 48 hours of what had been crazy and dangerous during 30 minutes. The only other alternative was an anchorage at the north end of the atoll, 15 miles away. We hoped to get there in three hours…

Since we needed to leave immediately, there was no way of waiting for less wind or slack tide. A few strong guys pushed us off the dock and there we went! In strong opposing currents of 4 knots, Irie was jerkily pushed left and right. Mark did a great job steering us through the eddies (little whirlpools) and preventing us to turn sideways. The small engines were on full throttle, while we tried to get out of the pass and into the lagoon. What followed was an even more hair rising experience to head north to safer grounds. We ended up having to motor for many hours, and it wasn’t one of those “turn the engines and the auto pilot on and relax” kind of trips! We don’t even like motoring in the first place.

No, the event was slightly more exciting. Maybe interesting to the adventurous spirit reading these posts, but less so for the ones being in the midst of them. Mark and I had to drive into the wind and into the waves the whole time with 100% concentration. He had to hand steer (the autopilot could not manage these conditions), while I was vigilantly on the look-out. No time to eat or drink, get sun protection or a rain coat. Before long, the full on storm and weather system was upon us. This is when a cruiser is usually safely holed up somewhere comfortable… We had left too late.

The wind was blowing 30 – 40 knots; the lagoon waves were 6 feet high and close together! During the constant squalls – with even bigger bursts of wind – the rain was driving down and pelting our faces and bodies. Waves were crashing over the bow and into the cockpit, swamping us. I was on deck, fully exposed to the elements (which included enough sun to filter through the clouds and burn my skin and scalp – I lost my bandana overboard early on - during those hours), with little visibility. While Mark focused on the instruments (our luck was having accurate charts of the Tuamotus!), I stared ahead, looking for pearl farm buoys, waiting to foul our propellers. And, this way we continued on, missing reefs and maneuvering around floats, while shivering from being cold and tasting salt water. For six hours! That’s how long it took us to cover those 15 miles. Do the math… I will not repeat here what either of us screamed during this dreadful day. All we wanted upon arrival in Apataki was to have some rest before starting work in the boat yard.

What we learned the hard, Tuamotu way is that from the moment there is any kind of north wind, you motor north, into wind and waves, and, if there is any kind of south wind, you do the opposite. Point is, you always end up motoring head into anything blowing, because that’s where you will find protection. Or, you have to be really good at knowing what the weather men mean with their ambiguous forecasts and plan well ahead! At 4pm, we had enough light to drop the anchor away from the reefs – there might be some coral heads underneath us since we are anchored in 58 feet of water and can’t see the bottom – and had breakfast, lunch and dinner all in one. Then, we went to bed for our first decent night of sleep in ten days! At least we are safe and comfortable – for now! And, it seems to be pretty here as well! 

Friday, November 30, 2012

Portobelo: Autumn Anchorage from Hell


Since coming back to Portobelo from our failed sailing trip to Bocas del Torro, Mark and I have been here three weeks. During that time, it rained constantly and we had to move several times because of “funny” wind and current situations and the fact that different boats move differently. While the bay was very uncomfortable certain times, the humidity was 100%, nothing dried and mildew grew everywhere, inside (and out!) Irie. Windows could not be opened, clothes turned moldy, and towels smelled awful. We were cooped up inside a 35’ area for weeks and each time we ran an errand, we got drenched and more wet clothes were added to the growing pile of disgust. One thing we did not have to worry about: fresh water! Enough to wash our whole wardrobe, if only we could hang the stuff out to dry…

Statistics of our Portobelo stay:
  • Consecutive days in the bay: 22
  • Maximum wave height from swells: 3 feet
  • Water color: coffee brown
  • Full nights of sleep: 1
  • Days without rain: 0
  • Near hits with other boats: 3
  • Times we had to move: 7
  • Days of uncomfortable pitching: 12
  • Thunder and lightning storms: 2
  • Staying dry during trips to shore: 5%
  • Humidity: 100%
  • Total amount of sun: 1 hour
  • Smoke detector alarm: 5 times ¹
  • Carbon monoxide alarm: 2 times ²
  • Level of crew happiness: -1
  • Days of nausea: 3
  • Better anchorages in the area: 0
  • Level of becoming insane: HIGH
  • Ranking on Irie’s list of long term anchorages: last place
  • Maximum amount of anchor chain out: 200 ft. (all)
  • Boats without anchor lights at night: 75%
  • General feeling: Being stuck indoors for too long
  • Colors of mold: black inside; green outside
  • General smell indoors: mildewy
  • Smell of towels: gross
  • Amount of towels used: all
  • Heap of laundry: growing
  • Shower water: cold as rain
  • Shower time: 3x a week ³
  • San Blas tan: gone
  • Smiles on our faces: none
  • Water tank and jerry jugs: overflowing
  • Color Irie’s waterline: brown instead of white
  • Color Irie’s bottom: green instead of blue
  • Unfinished projects: 10
  • Tools out for halted projects: floor and spare bunks covered

¹ Due to cooking in a closed-up boat
² Due to opening door a crack while generator (producing exhaust) was running in the cockpit and battery fumes traveling around while being charged in a closed- up boat
³ As to refrain wet and smelly towels


Choppy, muddy Portobelo Bay with boats doing different things


Three weeks of constant rain was too much for our cup and duct tape to keep water out of the hole underneath...


Normally not of the superstitious kind, Mark and I did blame the "little wooden man" for all our bad luck and "sent" him back to the San Blas.


One hour of sun!