Category: Blog Post

Originally posted on November 13, 2014, by cruisingrunner

I’ve been especially clumsy lately, but hopefully my clumsiness can become your entertainment.

#1: It was wicked humid here for a few days. The kind of humid where all the surfaces of the interior of the boat seem to have a continual layer of dampness on them. It would rain off and on, so we had to keep playing the close the hatches/open the hatches game after each rainfall would come and go. And with the hatches closed it seemed the heat and humidity inside would get even that much more worse. I warned the boys more than once about how wet the floor was and that they needed to be careful going down the stairs. Yeah, unfortunately that was foreshadowing. One morning, before anyone else was up, the rain started abruptly and I rushed around the boat closing all the hatches. I stepped a little too quickly down the companionway to mine and Tim’s cabin and I took a rough tumble hard into the companionway door, breaking the plastic rollers that keep it on its track. Luckily the door was closed or my spill down the stairs could have been much more disastrous. It was a noisy affair and Tim was jolted awake by the clatter. Bless him though, he only started grumbling about us always breaking stuff for him to fix AFTER he made sure I was OK.

#2: On one of my runs about Nuku’alofa there was a very short stretch where I was running on the asphalt between a parking lot and the street, which were separated only by a shallow concrete gutter. A car started to make a turn from the road into a parking spot right in front of me (pedestrians most certainly do NOT have the right of way in Tonga, but that could be a blog post all its own…) So, I made a quick move to my left in order to run around the car as it turned. This quick move brought my left foot right onto the slope of the gutter, which was surprisingly smooth, and my foot went right out from under me. I hit the ground with a thud and a splash of water as my water bottle cushioned my hand from the impact. I laid there a bit stunned for probably not more than 5-10 seconds then I stood up slowly and was able to run on. I’ve got a bit of road rash on my left hip, but other than that I came through it unscathed. No, there was no concern displayed by the driver.

#3: Yesterday afternoon, Tim was out spear fishing, the boys were playing on shore, and I was waiting to get picked up by a friend to go to shore for the potluck. I grabbed my flip-flops out of the basket and carelessly tossed them onto the back deck. One of them tottered on the edge for a bit before rolling down the steps into the water. My initial reaction was to look around for one of my heroes, because protocol on board Exodus is that if something goes into the water, even if *I’m* the one who dropped it, I am *not* the one who has to retrieve it. But, oh crap, this time I’m on my own. The paddle board is already in the water, and the flip-flop is floating rather than sinking, so I figure I can just jump on the board and go retrieve it. But it was still fairly near the boat and if I just lean out and can reach it with my toe… and maybe if I lean out just a bit more… *SPLASH* I was already showered and dressed and now I was wet and salty. And yes, two glasses of rum may been part of the root cause of this one.

I really hope clumsiness comes in threes and only threes.

-D.

Originally posted on November 13, 2014, by cruisingrunner

As we continue to wait for weather to sail to Minerva Reef, we are keeping busy with school, little projects, and, of course, socializing. In the social realm, the cruising lifestyle can be one of extremes. You can find yourself at anchor by yourself on a fairly remote island and you can find yourself in the midst of 30 (or more) other cruising boats at a relatively major port. The latter is where we find ourselves right now. And last night we had a huge potluck on shore and the kids ran around and played while the adults chatted about everything from our jobs in our former lives to that bilge pump that needed repairing to home school tips and tricks to next season’s cruising plans. There’s quite a diverse crowd here with boats in all sizes and shapes, and people from all over the world. However, while I was eating dinner and having a really fun time with a table full of boisterous people a curious fact all of a sudden dawned on me: Everyone at this table is from California. Four boats worth of people. All from California. I wondered whether it was just some sort of coincidence or if we all subconsciously selected each other due to a sense of familiarity.

Please don’t get me wrong. There’s no way I would have consciously thought, “I’m going to sit at a table with all people from California and only people from California,” and I doubt anyone else would have thought that either. And I had great fun chatting with other friends throughout the evening. For example, our dear friends from Halifax that we cruised with in Mexico are here. We’ve also met another great family with four kids, and the dad is German, the mom is French, and they’ve lived in both Spain and the U.S., so the kids can speak all four languages. Our friends from Sweden are here as well and also an interesting young Czech single hander who all the kids love. So, with all of these great people around, why did I find myself at the California exclusive table? It’s an interesting question to ponder.

And once again, don’t get me wrong, the people from California are pretty great too.

-D.

Truth be told, this delay waiting for a weather window turned out to be a blessing. We were able to relax and have a little fun, and with several kid boats in the anchorage and lots of play space around Big Mama’s, the boys were loving it. The kid boats in the anchorage were Fluenta (our friends from Mexico) and Breeze (met briefly in Papeete), and three new ones: Lumbaz, Nautilus, and Nirvana, and we would go on to have lots of fun with them in Minerva Reef, New Zealand, and even Fiji. Some of the favorite activities of the kids were swinging on the rope swing into the water and playing lots of volleyball and dodgeball. And there was enough space at Big Mama’s for them to run around and play all sorts of games like hide and seek and capture the flag. There weren’t any boys the same age as Alex and Brenden, but there were several just a bit younger. And there were girls their age, which at this point might have been even better for them.

One night we had a big pig roast at Big Mama’s. One of the other cruisers organized it, and we all paid in advance for the pigs, and while Alex and Brenden and I were on shore doing school yesterday a boat pulled up and we could hear the squealing of the three little pigs. The guys promptly took them out back and slaughtered them, put them on spits, and put them over the fire for slow roasting. We didn’t watch the slaughtering, although if the boys had shown any interest I might have let them, they are old enough after all. The party started at 6 and went at least until midnight, which is when Alex got home, and he said some of the kids were still there even that late. They were all having such a good time. Big Mama even got up and danced to Abba.

So, why were we doing school on shore the day the pigs got slaughtered? It’s because Tim took Exodus and 4 other guys on a field trip to a small island called Tau about 12 miles away to do some spear fishing. They came back with about 5 fish, but unfortunately no tuna. More importantly they had a great time, and they even made it back to get served one of the pig heads, which apparently, according to the Tongans, is the best part.

We were ready to go, but we were at the mercy of the weather. This is a serious passage. It takes you out of the coconut milk run and into the temperate latitudes, where storms in the Southern Ocean can be fierce as you approach New Zealand. Timing your departure is paramount, because you want to depart with good weather and reasonable winds for sailing right off the bat, and, more importantly, you want to time your arrival sufficiently in between cold fronts, so you don’t get smacked in the face with a brutal southwesterly right when you are starting to feel like you are almost there. I spent a fair amount of time reading and studying the weather patterns for this passage, and it seemed that picking a good weather window for arrival would mean spending a fair amount of time on passage transiting through a high pressure, which would mean light winds. But we understood that this would be no time to be miserly with our diesel, because the longer you’re out there the higher your chance of getting hit by a severe storm.

What was keeping us tethered to Tonga so long was not New Zealand arrival considerations, but rather departure considerations and our desire to stop at Minerva Reef. There was actually a low-pressure system that was going to blow right over Minerva causing strong winds all around, including a strong westerly that we had to endure while at Big Mama’s. We had 30+ knot winds from our unprotected side so we were bouncing around on the 2–3-foot wind chop that was building over the entire width of the harbor. But we all just hunkered down on our boats, and we all got through it with minimal drama. After it passed, it was eerily quiet. The skies were clear, there was hardly a breath of wind, and the water was like glass. After that low pressure system passed, we were sitting on a high-pressure ridge. What a difference a couple days makes. All in all, we were in Tonga an extra week or so as we waited for the storm to approach, pass over us, and then move on.

Originally posted on November 8, 2014, by cruisingrunner

We arrived in Nuku’alofa, the capital of Tonga, a week ago Thursday, and we figured it would take us about a week to prep for our passage to Minerva Reef and then to New Zealand, which will take us out of the tropics just in time to avoid cyclone season. A week was the perfect amount of time, because our visas were going to expire. Our goal was to be all cleared out of Tonga and ready to leave this weekend. And for once, we made it, we met our goal. Engine inspections? Check. Rigging Inspection (Tim up the mast)? Check. Steering cable inspection? Check. Hull clean? Check. Sails repaired? Check. Propane and gasoline? Check. Provisions? Check. Cleared out of Tonga? Check. Duty free diesel? Check. Beer/rum? Check. Weather window for departure? … *crickets*

So, we are ready to go, along with about 30 other boats anchored here with us, but the weather simply isn’t cooperating. As I type this, the wind is blowing 20+ kts and it’s pouring rain. A low pressure system is approaching and will pass us just to the southwest. After this ugly stuff passes us today, we will see further effects of the low by way of light westerlies, which means if we left for Minerva, we’d likely have to motor most of the way. Since the entire trip to New Zealand is over 1000 miles, we’d prefer not to use a bunch of our diesel on the first 250 miles to Minerva, which is a passage that we should be able to find a good window to sail the whole way. So, we played the hurry up and wait game, and we will likely not leave until next weekend. However, over the past year and a half we have developed a solid appreciation for waiting for a good weather window, so we understand that this waiting is just part of our lifestyle now. We’ve developed the ability to wait without frustration. Mostly.

Patience extends pretty much to all aspects of life now. For example, yesterday I decided to go for a run in town rather than run on the sand here at the island where we are anchored. Gone are the days when I could just lace up my shoes and step out the door. For this run I had to catch a ferry to the mainland. Although there is a schedule for the ferry, it can never be counted on. Most of the time it leaves late, but just often enough it leaves early so that you can’t just assume it will be late and plan accordingly. So, I drop our dinghy, grab my shoes and water bottle, head to shore, tie up the dinghy, and…. wait for a half hour for the ferry to leave. I made sure I made it back from my run in plenty of time, and… then I waited for another half hour for the ferry to leave for the return trip. So, an hour long run required in total about a 2.5 hour process. Not every run requires so much overhead, but at a minimum it requires a paddle or dinghy ride to shore, and in most cases it involves an advanced shore scouting mission to confirm there is an appropriate road, trail, or beach to run on.

The run in town was a magnificent one, though. There is a sidewalk path along the waterfront that stretches for, well longer than 3 miles anyway, so it was reminiscent of my runs along the La Paz Malecon back in Mexico. Near the wharf where I disembarked the ferry it is quite industrial and crowded. The “malecon” is lined with vendors selling everything from fish to fruit and veggies to clothes and electronics. Since it was Saturday, everyone was out of the woodwork, and I was weaving back and forth to avoid all of the other pedestrians. Once I passed the city center area and the royal palace, it thinned out rather abruptly. All of a sudden I was mostly alone along with the occasional group of kids playing in the water. One thing is for certain: For the entire distance, 3 miles out and 3 miles back, I was the ONLY person running.

My running in general is also taking patience these days. I’m still not running often enough to make any sort of progress in my pace. Yesterday, when I turned around and headed back, I *felt* like I was running quite a bit harder, but upon return I looked and saw I had actually run back 2 minutes slower. I didn’t take my garmin, so I’m leaving room for the possibility that I made an error in my mental accounting of the minutes (I did go far enough to have runners mush brain, after all.) I am trying to extend the aptitude for patience that I’ve developed in other aspects of my life while cruising to my personal expectations for my running. And I am mostly successful. Mostly.

-D.

The story of clearing out starts with our need to top up the diesel tanks and jerry cans and our desire to purchase that diesel at the duty free rate. Another boat in the anchorage, I feel bad that I don’t remember which one, did the legwork to find out the logistics of getting duty free fuel. Basically, you had to clear out with customs and get a letter of approval, then you had to order your fuel in advance, then they bring the fuel to the dock by truck and you fill up. Since they kind of expect you to leave after you clear out but you have to order your fuel at least a day in advance, it seems a bit of a disconnect to me, but whatever. I’ve learned not to ask questions I might not like the answer to.

So, the catch with getting the fuel had nothing to do with the government. It was that you had to order an insane amount of fuel from the fuel company to have it delivered by truck to the fuel dock. To get fuel delivered, many boats had to coordinate their order together. Somehow, it worked out for five of us to do it on the same day: Exodus, Ika, Tusitala, Nirvana, and Iguana. It was a little tricky because we aren’t talking about an insignificant amount of money. So, instead of one person fronting the money for everyone or one person collecting money from everyone, our plan was to all do the checkout process together and all go together with our approval letters from customs to place the fuel order.

We all caught the first shuttle from Big Mama’s over to Nuku’alofa, and the first stop was immigration, which was almost all the way to town, conveniently across the street from the bakery. Ika had gotten there first so they were inside, and the rest of us waited outside. I was next up, and I went inside, and a soft spoken man gave me a form to fill out. As I started to fill it out, a thought occurred to me, and I made a suggestion. I told the man that there were several other people outside in line to do the same thing, so maybe he should give them the forms and they can start filling them out while they wait. He didn’t seem to think it was either a good or bad idea, but he humored me and went out and gave them all the forms. Efficiency and timeliness just aren’t on the radar at any beauraucratic office, but even less so in the islands. After I finished filling out the forms he stamped and signed them, and then went to make copies. The nearest photocopier didn’t work, so he stared at it for about 10 minutes before going to find another one about 15 ft away. That one didn’t work either so he stared at that one for what seemed like even longer. He never asked anyone for help and never really tried to fix anything. Finally, he just came back to the desk and started handwriting out a second copy of the form. Seriously. These are times when you just take deep breaths and remember how much you appreciate where you are. And these are also the times when I remember why I’m the one handling this kind of thing and not Tim. He would have even less patience for it. Unfortunately, one boat in our group hit a snag at immigration. Their visas were expired because they thought when they arrived the got 3 months rather than 1 month and never renewed. In the end they were able to pay an additional fee and eventually sort it all out, but it wasn’t without its headaches.

After immigration, we went to an office upstairs from customs to pay our port fees. This was something we had to do in Neiafu as well, but curiously, not in Pangai. Basically, it’s a fee based on your boat’s tonnage. It was at this point that we noticed that the tonnage listed on our coast guard registration is erroneously high. So, at the window when she asked my tonnage I gave her the correct number, not what was listed on our registration paper, counting on that she probably wouldn’t look at the paper anyway. And she didn’t.  Then we went downstairs to the customs office, waited in a room for about 20 minutes, then we finally had our clearance out of Tonga and our approval letter for the duty-free fuel.

The last stop of the day was at the Total Fuel office to place our order for the next day. This was kind of a pain, because we had to tell them exactly how much fuel we wanted. If we overestimated, we had to pay for it anyway. If we underestimated, well, whoever was last to fill up would likely get shorted. And when we asked how they measure the fuel they responded that it’s with stick lowered into the tank. If it’s sounding like I’m setting you up for some drama, well, I wish I could remember one way or the other. Exodus was first to fuel up in the morning, and the only drama for us was that we had to wait about 2.5 hours before the fuel truck every showed up. We filled up and as far as we know we took about what we had ordered, and no one after us ever complained or came after us with pitchforks or anything. It took the better part of a day and a half, but we were officially cleared out of Tonga.

We arrived in Tongatapu on Thursday Oct 30, and our visas were set to expire the following Saturday, just over a week. We intended to be ready to go and clear out on Thursday, so that gave us just under one full week to prep for the passage. We wanted to shoot for Thursday rather than Friday, because we’ve learned from experience you just don’t leave these sorts of things to the last day of the working week. There could be a surprise holiday or a requirement we didn’t know about or anything that might delay us a day, and then our visas would expire adding a whole extra layer of bureaucracy. So, we worked fast and furious to meet that deadline. Tim did a ton of boat work and inspections so that we knew Exodus was ready for the passage too. It wasn’t time yet for an engine oil change, but Tim inspected fluid levels, cleaned raw water intake, checked electrical connections, etc., etc. He also made sure the rigging was good to go, which included hoisting him up the mast to check all the standing rigging, the main sail batten car track, and the VHF antenna that sits atop the mast. Of course, there were other inspections too, like the steering system and the SSB connections and ground plane.

In addition to all the inspections there was also a sail to repair, and for good measure Tim spent a fair amount of time onshore helping our friends from Fluenta repair their sail too. The boys chipped in a bit and cleaned both hulls in between all the play time with the other kid boats. For my part, I shored up all of our provisions, prepared and froze passage meals (so we are well fed our first few days at sea, even if I don’t feel like cooking), handled the paperwork for clearing out of Tonga and clearing into New Zealand, and spent a fair amount of time studying the weather in an effort to pick “the best possible window” for heading to New Zealand. We worked hard and comfortably met our deadline and were ready to clear out Thursday morning, and that includes carving out several evenings for epic games of resistance with Iguana, and our new friends on Tusitala.

Big Mama’s Yacht Club ran a shuttle over to Nuku’alofa about 3 or 4 times a day. It is about a 20-minute ride and costs 5 pa’anga round trip. After we took our dinghy over the first day and bashed back upwind, I resolved to take Big Mama’s shuttle every other time I needed to go to town. It was much easier and much more comfortable. Almost every day I would catch the first shuttle of the day, 8:30-ish and then go for a run and/or go shopping. Most mornings I would get to the dock at about 8:20 and then wait until 8:45 or 9:00 for the shuttle to leave, because let’s face it, we’re in Tonga and schedules aren’t exactly meaningful. However, one morning it actually left early, about 8:25, leaving a few people behind as they were tying up their dinghies. So, most of the time it was late, but you couldn’t always count on it being late.

I almost always caught the first shuttle back to Big Mama’s, about 11:30. There was rarely another cruiser on that one, since most people who shuttled into Nuku’alofa stayed until the afternoon. So, if I wasn’t alone, I shared the shuttle with either well-to-do Tongans or international tourists, mostly from New Zealand, heading out to Pangaimotu for the day. You could tell they were well-to-do Tongans because they were well groomed and manicured. I can’t tell you how many times I told our cruising story and pointed out which boat was Exodus as we shuttled through the Big Mama anchorage.

One of the reasons I went to town every day may be self-evident: to get in a good run on a good surface, without having to circumnavigate a small island multiple times. But the other reason was to provision for our passage to New Zealand. When doing a small reprovision, I tend to take the approach of whiddling away at it. One backpack full at a time, I slowly filled Exodus’s lockers. I enjoy a leisurely pace, both in shopping and stowing everything on board. In contrast, when we do a big reprovision, it’s all hands-on deck and all four of us try to knock it out in one shot.

October 31, 2014

We had been hearing about the upcoming Big Mama’s Halloween Party on the SSB net all the way down Ha’apai, so when we arrived on 30 October, we realized that we had made it just in time. The previous year for Halloween we were all alone and departing San Felipe for a 2-day passage south. So, it was fun to be with a big group for a big party this year. The boys rummaged around a bit trying to figure out something for a costume, and then one of them came up with the idea to be Thing 1 and Thing 2 of Dr. Seuss fame. We had these brand new plain white T-shirts (thanks Lady Carolina!) and Tim carefully drew the numbers 1 and 2 on each of them and then the boys spiked up their long hair and… voila! Easy Halloween costumes.

Imagine our surprise and excitement when, as we were pulling into the harbor of Tongatapu, we heard some familiar VHF radio traffic, “Port Control, Port Control, Port Control, this is sailing vessel Fluenta, Fluenta over.”

Fluenta, Fluenta, Fluenta!”

These are our friends that we had met very early in our cruising adventure, back in the early days of the Sea of Cortez. We had left Mexico about a month before them, so we had been following their adventures across the south pacific by email. It was so nice to finally catch up in person. The boys had fun running around with Jonathon and Victoria again, well, OK, mostly Brenden, because Alex is a teenager now and teenagers are just boring. Baby Benjamin was so much bigger, but of course, that’s what babies do.

We also met up with another boat we knew from Mexico, and we’ve known them almost as long as we’ve known Fluenta: Steve and Judy on s/v Code Blue. Although they aren’t a “kid boat” we have a special bond with them since they are one of the few boats we spent the hot hot summer with up in the northern Sea of Cortez.