Sailing Wondertime

We are finally underway to the land of the Kiwi bird. Or, as Leah and Holly point out movie theaters, ice-cream cones and socks. I am excited for — yes I am going to admit it — a Starbucks latte. Also cheese, a real grocery store and libraries. Michael is excited for internet that works and a big fat steak.

These things we keep in mind as we point our bow into the southern ocean. I have to think of something else, can’t let the terror fill up every part of my brain as it wants to. I do not like this trip, have been dreading it for weeks. There’s so many factors that weather prediction is practically an art form down here and I just need to trust those experts that say the path is clear and trust that we’ll be ok. Miserable perhaps, but ok. Some people say you have to take an ass-kicking on this trip, that’s just the way it is. Hopefully we can bypass that rite of passage.

We’re certainly not miserable now; 175 miles north of Minerva Reef we’re motoring in about 2 knots of wind. The weather is dictating that we go right pass this potential resting point and continue on to Opua. There is a low forming over Fiji heading towards Tonga so we want to be well south of it’s influence. The good news is that the low will create nice SE winds for us — which is on the beam — in a few days and we should have a rip roaring sail right into Opua, hopefully a week from today.

It will be fine, I know it will. But still I alternate between being terrified of running out of diesel and terrified of 40 knot winds on the beam. 950 miles to go. Must think of lattes and socks, instead.

Stop by any of the nightly beach happy hours here in Tonga and you’ll hear the same conversations at each one: “When are you thinking of leaving for N-Zed?” and “Are you heading down to the Ha’apai’s first?” and “Stopping by Minerva?”

With our impending passages to New Zealand only weeks away, this seems to be the only thing on sailors’ minds here and it consumes nearly all of our happy hour talk. All the boats heading to Australia have left already and the ones remaining here are getting ready to head to New Zealand for the summer.

This passage can be knarly if it’s not played right as there are a number of weather challenges to contend with: the South Pacific Convergence Zone bobs around Tonga and Fiji and it’s best to avoid sailing in the convection (i.e. lightening), rain and squalls that live in it. Squash zones (i.e. tightly packed pressure gradients) form regularly between our latitude and NZ and they hold “surprise” strong winds not usually shown on the GRIB files. Finally, fronts bringing 30-40 knots of wind roll across the top of New Zealand from the west every three or four days and you have to time your arrival in Opua just right to avoid getting caught in one of those.

The good news is these fronts are less intense and frequent into November and so we wait out the month of October here in Tonga before we play our weather hand. But at the same time, since there’s nothing to do about it but “wait” it’s the perfect time to pick up an Eckhart Tolle book and practice enjoying the present moment.

We’re still in Tonga, after all, and this place is simply gorgeous. For the past week, we’ve been anchored off Vava’u’s easternmost island of Kenutu. It’s one in a chain of several small, narrow islands that are joined by a coral reef. Between the islands you can see the ocean swell crashing against the reef and even clear over the top of some of the smaller islands when it’s really running. Even though we can hear the thunderous roar of the surf from our cockpit, it’s like a tranquil lake in here as the swell doesn’t make it inside.

From the anchorage, we gaze at a classic palm-treed sandy beach but the ocean is tearing down the islands bit by bit on the rugged windward side. There are caves and blowholes and cliffs that the Kiwi’s insist on setting their climbing gear up on and sending their children on up. (My oldest too scrambled up in record time, in her Crocs and swimsuit no less. I think she’s going to do well in New Zealand). Which also means there have been lots of kids out here and the girls have both enjoying having loads of friend time, which can be very precious out here. Even though the calendar tells me Halloween is coming up, it’s spring here; the air and the water is warming up, we’re swimming and snorkeling every day, soaking up this tropical turquoise water and sun while we can.

Still, each morning we listen to Gulf Harbor Radio on the SSB for the current weather prognosis between us and NZ as well as reports from boats already heading that way. We’ve got a to-do list on a post-it note that we chip away on each day. But for most of the day, we try to forget all that and be present in the moment lazing around in tropical paradise.

I felt like tears would well up at any moment as we pulled away from Niue yesterday. I don’t remember that happening when leaving a new place before, except for when we left our home of Olympia a year ago of course. The girls didn’t want to leave either; they had grown to love this little place too with it’s tidy cozy seatracks, the ice-cream boat (a boat that had washed ashore in the cyclone and the owners decided to fix it up and serve ice-cream cones in it, they theorized), the playground, the yacht club where Holly always found a smiling someone to listen to her rattle off about her adventurous day.

The place felt familiar, like it could be a home. The people here, so kind and funny and rugged and resolute could be good friends for a long time. The place had all the qualities of our favorite small Alaskan towns only with cyclones instead of blizzards. On Saturday we were up at the crack of dawn to head to one of the village’s yearly festivals. We ate taro and pork, watched local kids dancing, laughed along with the blindfolded women weaving baskets, cheered when the men throwing spears made it all the way over the crowds’ heads and across the grassy field, hearing all the time the beautiful Niuean language being kept alive. We found at least another 50 reasons to love Niue that day.

Today, we are sailing to the Kingdom of Tonga, our last tropical port before we unpack our fleece and foulies and storm trysail and point Wondertime’s bow south to New Zealand in October. The forecast for these final westward miles is light winds, 10 knots or less and we’ve found the gribs to be right on again. We’ve been drifting along with our spinnaker today at 2.5 knots. It’s so calm, the shining sapphire sea is barely rippled. Down below, it feels like we are at anchor. The sun is shining, we have plenty of sunpower to watch movies and the girls are thrilled with this. Harry Potter is on the playbill for this afternoon. We even managed to find space in our tiny freezer for a bit of New Zealand ice-cream and are about ready to devour it any minute.

We were hoping to get to Tonga, 250 miles from Niue, with two overnights but it looks like it will be three. We don’t mind. Last night’s watch was simply gorgeous with the stars so bright you could read by them and I find myself glad to have extra night watches on the horizon. I have a lot to think about, remember, plan, dream — Michael too — and we each savor these quiet hours alone, on this easy last tropical passage west.