Pacific to Torres Straight

It took just over a month to sail from Fiji to Bali. We ghosted by the Vanuatu’s Makura and Mataso Island on a rainy morning and, unfortunately, continued West. Consistent wind and moderate seas, we averaged 135 mile days for the last leg of the Pacific Ocean.

We were looking forward to the Torres Straight after rumors of scattered coral islands, strong current, and congested shipping lanes. With a fair SSE wind, we decided pave our own way. Minding the easterly current kept us out of the shipping lanes we kept our distance from the shipping lanes. We were making great time and life was good until a gale forced us to drop sail a few hours after sunset. Lacking a working jib as a result of an incident in Fiji, we hove to with a reefed mizzen. We drifted slowly towards the shipping lane eight miles away, we felt pretty uncomfortable tuning into the VHF radio for cargo traffic and popping our heads into the gale every five minutes. I took a nap as Chad was on watch knowing it would be a long night. I’m not sure when exactly I woke up. It could have been the noise, but I would like to think I awoke while flying. Either way, my flight crashed landed after only 8 feet. I hit the starboard cabinets while shielding my head from airborne books, laptops, and Chad’s throwing club from Africa (I have to find a new storage place for that). A wave broke over the beam and mizzen sail. I was sure our mizzen mast was gifted to Poseidon. Chad and I looked at each other thinking “Where the hell did that come from?”

Throughout the night, the wind continued to build accompanied by rain as the current graced into the danger shipping zone. Visibility dropped significantly rendering watches all but worthless. Around 3am Chad came down below for a few minutes from his shift and disappeared again out into rain and darkness. “Hit all the lights! Get on the radio! Three hundred foot cargo ship is going to run us over!” is all I heard. Every light we own was on within seconds. I grabbed the radio following protocol by announcing our location off the ship’s port bow, stuttering through rough coordinates and desperately seeking a response. The ship immediately veered to starboard missing us by “a football throw” as Chad so described. 4am I made coffee and blueberry pancakes to shake off the night and start the day off right before the sun lit the sky. By 5am the wind had settled to 30 knots, so we rose a double reefed main slowly pinching upwind.

Late morning we caught the tidal current and favorable wind. We paid our respects to Twin Island as we cruised on past. Records were broken as we hit 12.5 knots through the Prince Wales Channel. I have to attribute at least 5 knots to the current. It felt like sailing down a river as we were swept into the milky green waters of the Arafura Sea. Goodbye Pacific, hello Indian Ocean.