The Arafura Sea

The Arafura Sea. This stretch of water between Australia and Indonesia is 40 feet deep for hundreds of miles. Stereotypical of the nearby coast of Australia, the creatures are deadly. Shark sightings were common and appreciated until one decapitated a large tuna leaving only half the head on the hook. Once an old desert now covered in water, we witnessed about a dozen sea snakes over a hundred miles offshore.

Despite the dangers, we did have watchdogs in the air. The Australian sea patrol plane hailed us on the radio, presumably to verify we did not deter from our Bali destination. We did not relay our fishing report which was noteworthy. We caught tuna on request along with one large wahoo weighing 38lbs. Stripped and dried, wahoo yields some pretty tasty jerky.

Days are easily lost out at sea, however, one was celebrated. August 2nd, our (including Makai’s) birthday. We found Makai in California the first week of October; she was eight weeks old at the time. She did not come with a birth certificate so naturally, we fabricated one. She celebrated with the jerky and we ate a chocolate cake. The attendance was lean this year with family and friends to be desire. The wind and sun were guests gifting sail and solar power respectively. The generosity ended with the Arafura Sea.


Entering the Timor Sea, the wind ceased to exist for 5 days. A surprising number of people ask us what we do out at sea when there is no wind. Well… we wait. Most sailors go crazy not moving, we see it a vacation from sailing. Reading books, laying in the sun, watching movies, casting for fish, isn’t a bad way to spend a few days. No wind or swell, the sunsets, sunrises, and stars all seem better. One of the world greatest destinations is the middle of the ocean with no wind, waves, clouds or moon. The stars are so bright they reflect off the water. It is nearly impossible to tell where the reflection ends and sky begins. I imagine is similar to being in space void the view of the earth. It is also quiet... so quiet it takes a little while to get used to it, like being underwater. These rare moments never last forever. The wind revived and whisked us off to Bali.

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.

Last Days in Fiji

The west side of Fiji is beautiful. We grabbed a mooring ball in port Denerau and scheduled to haul out Broken Compass (This is the first time we have taken her out of the water since purchasing her). As waves of tourists and honeymooners passed through the marina in transit to the outer islands, we shifted to work mode. The bottom was caked with a half-inch layer of algae and barnacles... No wonder we have been sailing slow. Our rudder had her own issues. Unbeknownst to us, she was harboring a worm, who had eaten its way through the wood. With a piece of wire, we traced and ended the path of the worm. The list of repairs grew with every nut inspected. BC turned into a chemistry lab with mixtures of epoxy, paint, hardeners, thinners, cleaners and resin. Potential hazards and breakdowns were eliminated one by one until Broken Compass splashed 2 weeks later with a new colors.

Joining the ranks of cruising yachts, we motor/sailed to Musket Cove. They call Musket Cove “The vortex” due to the world class surf and island comforts that can trap sailors for years. We hooked up with our friend Mark, captain of Northfork, and hit the reefs. Spending over a year in the islands, dinner by spear was like picking from the menu of a seafood restaurant. After a couple days we sailed to Lautoka, pulling ourselves from our friends and the vortex. All aspects of our sea trial seemed perfect until the new clutch on our recently rebuilt starter made a grinding noise and snapped. Replaced once again and Fiji astern, we are off for Bali. Estimated trip time is 36 days crossing the Coral Sea, Torres Strait, Arafura Sea, and Timor Sea.

Pray for wind!

Sail to Nadi

Continuing to rely solely on the wind, all of our sails take longer than expected. The first few hours down the southern coast were pleasant with following wind and seas. We decided to take a short cut through Beqa passage close to where we went shark diving the previous month. Short cuts typically increase risk. Well, the wind switched then died, leaving us in the middle of the passage. It returned heavy on the nose with rain. Due to our limited navigation equipment coupled with Fiji's reputation for shipwrecks, it was a little unsettling sailing along the coast on a moonless night. The abundance of reef patches and strong currents running through the passage gave the night some flavor.

The next evening we hooked into a tuna. We were a little out of practice. I saw the rod bend and per procedure, screamed, “Fish!!!” Chad flew on deck from a nap, realized it was dark, and bombed down below to retrieve a headlamp. I had left the helm to work the fish and the boat self tacked back over the line, causing it to tangle under the boat. Rigging, sails, solar panels, Firefox, and Makai all posed unique challenges to the procurement of this fish. I pulled it alongside before we remembered our gaffe deficiency. No problem, wire leader... just haul it up when the boat heels over. One... two... wait... three! The fish came aboard surprisingly well with the motion of the boat. A little too well. I stepped aside to watch Chad trip over the cooler while bear hugging a 45 pound yellow fin tuna. As they landed, one of the treble hooks caught Chad's calf, further connecting him to the fish.

I dove below to the tool box and after two unsuccessful attempts with wire cutters and pliers, grabbed the bolt cutters. In all my life, I have never seen a landed fish so calm. Chad sat quietly with him, knowing a crazed tuna would cause a few deep lacerations in his leg. The bolt cutters worked just before the fish began his final flipping fit.

The next morning we positioned ourselves to sail upwind through Navula Passage. We were sailing confidently through with plenty of wind, then a loud cracking noise followed by a splash. The jib sail along with the entire forestay/roller furling system ripped out of the mast and fell in the water. We lashed the sail and hardware alongside as we limped on the mizzen and a double reefed main. Threading breaking waves on either side of the pass added to the excitement. We anchored for the evening in Momi Bay to assess the damage in and devour some yellow fin. The next day, with fairer winds, we continued up to Port Denarau to haul the boat out of the water for some much needed repairs.

Suva

It took us three (more) long weeks to realize Suva is the unlucky side of Fiji. It rained almost every day we were anchored, and if something on the boat wasn't broken, it happened there. Our outboard engine took another 2 week vacation after the starter coil burned out.

The toilet joined the outboard, leaving us scrambling to find specialized parts.

Our engine led us through the fuel system to the injectors to the timing back to the injectors to end ironically with the clutch of our brand new starter breaking due to a manufacturing defect. We discovered sending a new starter to Fiji is equivalent to purchasing a round trip ticket. We were left searching truck graveyards of Fiji.

Breakdowns are not uncommon in Suva. One not need look far to see wrecks and remains of boats around the harbor. The frequent sinking of boats and close calls discussed over Fiji Bitters at the Royal Suva Yacht Club were a strong omen to leave. One of our friends, Troutbridge, hit the reef coming in the Suva harbor. His boat was stuck on the reef for over two weeks. We departed shortly thereafter.

All mishaps aside, Suva is a fun city. The people stop you in the street just to talk to you, and there are a lot of great bars and clubs. We made many friends quickly and enjoyed the simplicity of the Fijian lifestyle. We were picked up by a couple cute Fijian girls at a bar and found ourselves playing squash at the university and learning local agricultural techniques for fish and prawn farming. Tired of the rain, we picked up the anchor to head over to the Western side for some sun.

Fiji

The trip to Fiji provided a nice variety of wind, squalls and calm sunny days. We had a full crew including Mike Foley and our little Brother, Tyler. The absence of consistent wind delt a delayed arrival to Fiji unfortunately missing Tyler's flight back to LA. We landed in Suva, the capital of Fiji. The capital is not like the brochures. There are no beaches, blue water or tourists. We spent a couple days at the Royal Suva Yacht club fixing the Tahatsu from her swim a couple weeks prior. We searched for a better location to entertain Liz and Ann Marie who would fly in to meet us in a couple days. Pacific Harbor became an immediate appeal when it advertised the "Adventure Capital of Fiji." We do not typically find ourselves allured by guided tours, however Pacific Harbor became an exception. We geared up in scuba equipment and decended to 70 feet underwater where trained professionals fed giant sharks. The sharks and pelagic fish were incredible. The fish comprised of tuna, trevally, and red snapper frenzy over fish carcass scraps. The sharks on the other hand, are more coy. The larger sharks move slowly with grace and power, like kings of the ocean. They carefully selected their meals and inhaled tuna heads in a single bite. During the dive we saw up to 12 foot bull and lemon sharks. It was an unforgettable experience.

We took a side trip to an isolated beach where Makai could release some energy. Similar to the other islands we attempted sneak her to remote places. This plan never works. Taking Makai to land is like to taking Nemo through an elementary school. Exotic creatures never go unnoticed. She found her peer group quickly and ran around with the kids of a local police officer named Osea. Osea, like many other Fijians, looks and holds himself like a warrior. His interrogation was inquisitive more than threatening and we enjoyed lunch with his family. We quickly became good friends and spent the following day, sitting in a circle eating and drinking kava for hours.

After a couple days in Pacific Harbor we sailed to an island called Beqa. Beqa is known for walking on fire and their supernatural ability to heal burn wounds by touch. It is customary to take Kava to the chief for permission to stay in the village. Although we would sleep in the boat, Kava opens doors. After presenting the Kava, the village decided to throw Mike a birthday party. Mike's Birthday started early with wake boarding under the stars at 3am. Sleep was optional and we all joined the village at a nearby beach for game day. The men provided lunch via spear. The women thatched and made the fire. The kids played and climbed coconut trees. We were encouraged to join the kids and happily obliged, drowning ourselves in coconut water.

The sail back to Suva was difficult with no wind or head winds. Firefox took a detour half way to obtain extra petrol in order to connect Mike with his departure flight. In Suva the plan is to outfit Broken Compass for a successful 40 day trek over to Bali.

Snow Dog in Tonga

We landed on another island. All these islands look the same in the south pacific. I was just happy to see land. Tonga is a little different. Christian missionaries abolished cannibalism among people but there were never missionaries for dogs. In Tonga, people eat dog and dogs eat everything. Tonga is one dangerous place! I have heard a couple jokes about being thrown in the umu (an underground oven) but no one made a move on me. The boys scored us a sweet island gig. I can now run, roam, swim, and sleep on the beach all I want. I have an island all to myself… well, almost all to myself.

Honyo. Honyo is a Tongan dog on the island. After miles at sea and always on the move, I was happy to have a friend to play with and settle down. She had other plans and was not very welcoming. Some days we could run and play together, but when dinner time arrived tempers stirred. We exchanged in a couple of scuffles, which were always quickly ended by the boys. Some fights went better than others. Although we did not end best friends, Honyo taught me a one valuable lesson: Never turn your back on a hungry dog.

Aside from the complicated relationship with the Honyo, we have had a couple adventures. An average day involves exploration and the procurement food. This includes wild coconuts, bread fruit and fish. The boys caught sardines in nets and went underwater for the bigger ones. I always worry a little when they disappear under the water and am equally excited when they return to the surface. One day we tried something new. The boys took me out to go pig hunting with a bow and arrow. I have no idea how to hunt pigs! We made it about 50 human paces into the forest when I heard a noise. I chased it listening to my wolf instincts and ignoring the boys' request to return. I found the source to be a wild chicken. This I can handle. I caught it and brought it home so the boys could cook it up. At least one of us caught dinner and it was delicious.