sv evi

We were anchored just south of Naviti island in the Yasawas, near the Manta Ray pass. It was a rolly anchorage. Rolly anchorages are not much fun, and they are even less fun with a baby. A rolly anchorage means that someone has to be watching Tomu more closely than normal because there is a much higher possibility of him falling down when the boat rocks back and forth, sliding everything across the counter surface as it does so. Plus, November is off-season for the Manta Rays, meaning slim chance of viewing one, so we decided to bug out in search of a calmer anchorage. We went just 7 miles around the corner to Soso Bay, because we had met two people from Soso Bay, and we hoped it would be less rolly there. We knew the large bay was open to the SE, which is the direction of the prevailing winds in Fiji. But…somehow we rationalized with ourselves, thinking the wind wasn’t that strong so it wouldn’t be bad; mostly hoping it would be more comfortable.

Turns out we were wrong; it was incredibly rolly. Big swells would come in, and Guava would tip sideways back and forth, back and forth, continually. But it didn’t get really bad until I woke up at 11:30 pm with the wind howling in the rigging. I mean howling. It was blowing so hard it blew our mosquito net off the velcro. It was so loud that I couldn’t go back to sleep. The chain kept grinding over coral as we were blown back and forth on the anchor. And I knew we were on a lee shore. Now, all sailors know they should “beware the lee shore”. A lee shore means that if your anchor drags, you will end up on the reef, or on land. I knew we had reef maybe 40 feet behind us, and I couldn’t stop worrying. I was scared to think of us wrecking our 34 foot home afloat. I also knew we couldn’t just up and leave in the dark because the waters were reef-riddled, so that would be too dangerous. Also, we weren’t really prepared to sail because we had the dinghy down in the water with the outboard engine on it.

So I said to Riki, “I’m scared, babe”.

He proceeded to calm me down by explaining: “Guava has really strong ground tackle. The hook is set well; we didn’t budge when I backed down on it. We would hear noises and know we were dragging before we hit the reef. If it came down to it and we did hit the reef, you and Wade could get into the dinghy and you would be blown right to shore.”

I said, “Maybe we can try to get the dinghy ready to go in case we do drag and have to start sailing.”

He said, “Yep, that’s a good idea.”

So we both went out in the howling wind and began readying the boat for a quick getaway, should we need it. Riki emptied the dinghy of gas tank, seat support, bailer, pump. He then tied the dinghy up alongside and prepared to hand the outboard engine up to me on the stern of the boat. The outboard weighs about 60 lbs, and is awkward. The dinghy was bucking on the waves, and it was blowing hard. It was definitely the crux of the getting the dingy ready operation. 🙂 But we waited for a lull and he hoisted it upward and I guided it onto the engine mount safely and tightened it down. Riki then tied down all the water jugs on the stern. Then we had some cheese and crackers (it was 1:30 am by now), and I put my earplugs in and went to sleep, satisfied that we had done all we could and trusting in our CQR anchor.

Lo and behold, we made it through the night. 🙂 We set out early, eager to get back across to Viti Levu, one of the two big islands in Fiji.  Unfortunately we needed to go SE, so the wind was on the nose and it was blowing hard, which meant we were pounding into the waves with the engine on and only going between 2 and 3 knots. So we chose to go find another anchorage (protected from SE winds) and wait for better weather. The anchorage we found on the N side of Naviti island was…yep, rolly. And we got there around 11 am, so that meant all day of rolliness. But I made sourdough bread and we made the best of it. Unfortunately we had no internet, so we couldn’t check weather. It’s an unsettling feeling wanting to make a passage (30 miles long) and not knowing the weather forecast. Also, it was late November (cyclone season here runs November-April) and we were pretty far from our cyclone mooring in Savusavu. We still had to get back to Viti Levu, then head east, then across Vatu-i-Ra passage (30 odd miles) back to Vanua Levu, then head east & north. So I was a little worried, feeling stuck out in rolly anchorages in the Yasawas, a long way from Savusavu.

But the next morning we set out in hopeful spirits at 8:00 am. Riki said, “I think this is gonna be a banner day.” The sun was shining, there were some clouds over the green island, and it sure looked pretty. As we turned around the corner of the bay we got internet and checked weather; it looked good. We headed for the pass through the reef, and then turned south towards our waypoint. And then we were actually able to sail our course! We were close-hauled, tight on the wind, but making good progress at 4.5-5.5 knots.

We saw some dolphins en route.

We got to the pass in the reef around Viti Levu, and chose to enter through a very narrow pass. It was unmarked, and we couldn’t see the break in the reef until we were quite close. We sailed through the narrow channel, pinching on the wind, and going fast, around 6 knots. It always seems we go the fastest right before we reach our destination, so we come ripping into the anchorage under sail. Then we were almost out of the pass, but it didn’t look like we were going to clear the exposed rocks sticking out.

I said, “Can we start the engine because it looks like we are heading straight for those rocks?”

Riki said, “We’ll make it. I just have to head for the rocks so I can get up enough speed.” Then he said, “uh oh, we aren’t making forward progress!” and he quickly started the engine, popped it into gear, and tacked us through the wind away from the rocks.

We were then inside the reef, so we thought it would be calmer (with less waves). But, the wind was honking, and we were sailing along at 6.5-7 knots, heeled over. It was now late in the day, and the sun was brutal shining down behind us. So I took Wade down below and we played on the cabin floor.

I came out later to steer the boat as Riki took the sails down, and he drove us into the anchorage while I dropped the hook. It was 5:15 pm and man, were we happy to be at anchor, back on Viti Levu inside the reef, in an un-rolly anchorage. We had micheledas and as we clinked glasses Riki said, “You are such a good sailor love. I knew I loved you, but now I really really know it."I set about cooking dinner and Riki turned on the Huskies football game (streaming radio) and put Wade on the deck to stretch his legs.

The next day I was prepared for a mellow day inside the reef, motoring east because there was no wind. We began motoring with the mainsail up but sheeted in tight, Wade went down for a nap, and I was sitting in the shade on the cabin top doing a crossword, ahh relaxation. Wade woke up and I fed him some food. Then suddenly, the engine died.

Now, we are a sailboat, and we sail as much as we can. But it’s pretty darn nice to know you have an engine you can fall back on. What if there is no wind? What if you are navigating a narrow pass? What if you have to grab a mooring ball in a field of mooring balls, avoiding other boats? For those situations, it’s really handy to have an engine. And it’s quite unnerving when the engine dies, in my point of view.

Riki, on the other hand, wasn’t worried in this situation. He said, "it’s probably the fuel filter”.

I said, “Well, let’s get the jib up so we can sail while you are changing the filter.”

I put Wade in the Ergo and took the wheel while Riki went forward to hank on the sail. The wind picked up, so we were able to sail, and even in the right direction. We were close-hauled though, and we were in a narrow passage between land and the reef. I was hand-steering with Wade in the Ergo trying to keep Wade from crying by playing with him and trying to pinch as much as I could so we would clear the reef, while Riki searched everywhere for his fuel filters, meanwhile getting more and more annoyed with himself for not having one just below the companionway step, readily accessible, as he usually does. He dug them out of the back, changed the fuel filter, and bled the engine, and voila! Guava’s engine rumbled to life again. But then it began hunting (when the engine revs up even though you haven’t upped the throttle as it searches for fuel), and died. Damn. So Riki changed out the gaskets on the fuel filter, bled the engine again until it started, and then shut it down so we could have it when we needed it.

Later when we turned it on, and it began hunting, Riki instantly dropped to his knees, opened the engine compartment, and pumped the fuel bulb. This worked. But it felt rather precarious, and we were both listening with overactive ears for the hunting sound so Riki could get to the fuel bulb before the engine died.

You can see the whitecaps on the water, indicating strong wind.

Meanwhile, the winds were strong, we were in narrow passes, and it felt stressful (to me). Riki said it was all just a part of sailing; things break and go wrong, and you fix them. At the end of the day we were motoring straight into really strong winds. We still had the jib up & it was just flogging itself to death, so Riki went up & took it down in that crazy wind. Turns out it got a small tear on the leech. We anchored safely and breathed a sigh of relief. One day closer to Savusavu…