Gresham Family Exodus

T minus 7 days: The Big Decision

We had been on passage for five days when we were approaching Funafuti, Tuvalu, and we studied the weather forecast in order to decide what to do. Our ideal destination would be Samoa, since we ultimately wanted to get to Tonga in order to haul out Exodus for some new bottom paint and overall TLC. (If you missed the last post about the overall passage from The Marshall Islands back down to the southern hemisphere you can catch up on that narrative here: The Passage South. It sets the stage a bit for this post about TC Amos.)

Weather forecast when we decided to bypass Funafuti and press on to Samoa

We thought we were looking at a weather gift from the gods (shown to the right). A low pressure was forecast to move west to east over Fiji before moving back off to the west and dissipating. In the southern hemisphere low pressures circulate clockwise, so this meant we could ride the top of the low with moderate NW winds on the stern almost the whole way to Samoa. Winds would eventually die and shift south which likely meant some motoring on final approach, but we would take it. If we stopped in Funafuti and the SE trades filled in, it could be a long wait before a weather window opened up again in order to head SE from Funafuti to Samoa. And even if a window opened, it could be a marginal one with a lot of upwind bashing. So, we waved to Funafuti (and our friends who were anchored there) as we passed by and changed the logbook to read, “destination: Apia, Samoa.” (Note: All of the forecasts in this post are shown in UTC. For reference, local time in Apia Samoa was UTC +13 hours.)

We understood that the decision wasn’t without risk. Being mid-April, it was the tail end of the South Pacific cyclone season, and we had already had extensive experience with how weather forecasts were notoriously unreliable beyond 2-3 days. So, we understood that there was always the chance the low pressure could strengthen beyond the current forecast and/or take a different track. We decided that we would download weather every 6 hours and if the forecast warranted, we would stop heading south or even head up to the NE to Tokelau.

T minus 5 days: Press on

Weather forecast two days after passing Funafuti. Approximately three days away from Apia, Samoa.

For about a day and a half the forecast stayed somewhat favorable. However, on day two after passing Funafuti, we downloaded a forecast that gave us some pause for concern (shown to the right). In the one day forecast the low was inching closer to us, which meant that although our winds would continue to be from a good direction they would be stronger and the overall conditions would be more volatile and squally. And ultimately, we did see 25 kts sustained with regular squalls up into the high 30s. Then the low would move off to the NW which would give us light winds (but likely still squally conditions) for arrival. But instead of continuing to the West and dissipating it was forecast to turnaround and come straight back to Samoa in a few days.

So, what to do at this point? We were approximately 3 days out from Apia, so should we implement one of our backup plans and alter course or press on? A couple of specific things influenced our decision. First was the fact that although the forecast track of the low was to head to Samoa, the forecast severity was pretty benign: about 1003 mb at worst. Second was that if we altered course and stayed at sea, there was still the possibility that we wouldn’t outrun it, so we judged it far better to face a potential cyclone in port than at sea. If we were in port, we would still be putting Exodus at risk, but we would be putting ourselves at significantly lower risk than if we stayed at sea, because we would abandon Exodus before we ever put ourselves in danger. And Exodus was insured. And we were nearing the end of our journey, so although we would surely mourn the loss of Exodus should anything happen, certainly no dreams would be dashed. We had lived those dreams already. As I write this now, it makes perfect rational sense to me, but I have to admit that at the time of the decision, we didn’t give a whole lot of credence to the idea that we were really taking any big risk with Exodus. The forecast was for a weak low, and likely the forecast track would change 96 times and not end up coming to Samoa after all. What I’m trying to say is that at the time of making this decision to press on to Samoa, I hadn’t come to any sort of inner peace with the idea of losing Exodus. It was still an abstract concept and so unlikely as to not be worthy of giving any emotional investment.

T minus 4 days: No Turning Back Now

Weather forecast when we were about a day away from Apia, Samoa.

Over the next two days the forecast changed very little other than the strength of the low. Shown to the right is the forecast when we were about a day away from Samoa. It was still moving off to the West for just long enough for us to arrive but then would slam Samoa a few days after that. The two quadrants on the bottom show the same forecast, but the one on the right shows a higher resolution one that I downloaded to try and get a better perspective on the position of the low. At this point we had no other option but to press on and our only objective was to get there as soon as possible in order to prepare.

We arrived in Apia, Samoa at night on Wed, April 20 and spent the night anchored in the harbor. On Thursday morning we were granted permission to move to the marina, and then we spent most of the day clearing in, provisioning some fresh items, and getting internet access. And once we had internet access, we could monitor the storm’s progress much more easily.

T minus 2 days: Our Nemisis gets a Name

Forecast from 4/21 06:00 UTC (Thurs 7pm local time). Cat 1 Tropical Cyclone (TC) Amos forecast to strengthen to a Cat 2 and pass over Wallis and then veer to the SE

The chart to the right is for Thurs, 4/21 6:00 UTC, which was 7pm local time. The black line is the actual track and history, and the red line is the forecast. It shows that our weather gift from the gods that had given us a favorable wind direction for our passage had become a full-blown category 1 cyclone. It had also been given a name: Amos.

The chart also shows that Amos was forecast to strengthen to a category 2 and then eventually pass Samoa to the south. All things considered, it wasn’t a terribly concerning forecast if it held. We certainly weren’t panicking.

Forecast from 4/21 12:00 UTC (Fri 1am local time). Cat 2 TC Amos forecast to strenghen to a Cat 3 as it passes South of Samoa.

Just 6 hours later Amos was upgraded to a Cat 2 (chart to the right). The overall track forecast didn’t change but now it was forecast to be a Cat 3 when it passed Samoa. We still weren’t panicking, but we were definitely a little more concerned. I was obsessed with weather updates, and I decided to do some heavier provisioning, including getting all the propane tanks filled, just in case there were any infrastructure issues after the cyclone.

I should point out that when I use the cyclone category levels here, they might not be the ones you are used to, since different scales are used throughout the world. In the South Pacific, the Australian tropical cyclone intensity scale is used, which is different than the scale that’s used by the U.S. National Hurricane Center for hurricanes in the NE Pacific and Caribbean (Saffir-Simpson scale). You can see a comparison of the two scales below. So, when TC Amos was forecast to be a Cat 3, this meant sustained winds of 64-85 kt, which is roughly equivalent to a Cat 1 hurricane back home. It was only slightly comforting to tell myself that it wasn’t *really* going to be a Cat 3, it was *only* going to be a Cat 1.

Cyclone/Hurricane intensity scale comparison. Left: Australian Scale used for South Pacific cyclones. Right: Saffir-Simpson scale used for Hurricanes in the U.S.

T minus 1 day: The Preparation

We spent most of Friday getting ready. We moved Exodus to the middle of the slip and tied dock lines to all sides. This was meant to prevent bashing into the dock on one side, depending on the direction of the wind. We stowed as much as possible and covered the dinghy so it wouldn’t collect water. Our new neighbors at the dock, Fred and Emelie from s/v Nefertiti, spent the day doing much of the same. In the evening we had an impromptu happy hour on Exodus using a little socializing to calm our nerves and feel like everything was normal. They were just starting their cruising adventure having departed from New Caledonia towards the end of the cruising season hoping to make it to French Polynesia before cyclone season kicked in. But they ended up stuck in Samoa and could barely believe they had almost made it through the cyclone season only to now be threatened by Amos. I shifted my focus from concern over ourselves and Exodus to concern over them. We were almost done cruising, and Exodus was insured. They were just starting out, and it would be heartbreaking for their dream to be interrupted by the tragedy of a cyclone. They were still intending to head to French Polynesia with plans to be married there and spend time exploring (being French, they wouldn’t be limited to a 3-month visa!) Although shifting my concern to their situation felt good and altruistic, I’m sure there was something self-serving about it. Perhaps it was a bit of a coping mechanism.

Tim and Alex getting the dock lines just right.

T minus 18 hours: Shit Gets Real

It’s good we felt prepared, because by Saturday morning shit started to get real.

The chart below shows the forecast for 4/22 18:00 UTC (Sat morning, 7am local time.) Amos was already upgraded to a Cat 3 cyclone and was forecast to graze Samoa as a Cat 4 sometime Sunday night/Monday morning. Cat 4 means sustained winds of 86-107 kts. So, we are now talking about > 100 kts sustained winds! And the geometry almost couldn’t be worse. Cyclones rotate clockwise in the Southern Hemisphere and given the direction it would be moving as it passed us, we would be in the quadrant of strongest winds. And we would see sustained winds from the North and our strongest winds from the NW as it reached its closest proximity to us.

Forecast from 4/22 18:00 UTC (Sat 7am local time). Cat 3 TC Amos forecast to strenghen to a Cat 4 as it passes even closer to Apia, Samoa.

The reason this was so bad was because 1) Apia isn’t exactly a hurricane hole (understatement!) and 2) It’s wide open to the north. We were far less concerned about windspeed at this point and far more concerned about storm surge. The photos below show the geometry of Apia harbor, and you can see the small marina on the right-hand side. Sustained winds from the North to the Northwest would cause the seas to build and barrel straight into this little harbor. We had no idea how the docks would hold up with Exodus and all her weight and windage being blown by the gusts and tossed by the surge. It was important to make sure we had redundancy in the lines and that they were set for minimum chafe. Tim and Alex had already done this.

Apia Harbor is wide open to the North. In the close-up image on the right you can see the small marina on the right hand side.

Heavy rain started Saturday morning, and the forecast only got worse.

T minus 12 hours: A Direct Hit is Forecast

The chart below is from 4/23 00:00 UTC (Sat 1pm local time). It was hard to believe. Amos was now going to more or less pass right over Apia as a Cat 4 cyclone. Sustained winds 86-107 kts, gusts of 122-151 kt. We would still be in the quadrant of strongest winds, and there was just no bright side to look on. This was pretty much going to suck.

Forecast from 4/23 00:00 UTC (Sat 1pm local time). Cat 3 TC Amos forecast to strengthen to a Cat 4 as it passes pretty much right over Apia.

Tim and I didn’t talk about an evacuation plan. He is a natural optimist and an expert in crisis management, so crisis avoidance and back-up plans tend to fall in my wheelhouse. I packed a couple bags with stuff we would want to take, but just pretty much kept that activity to myself. We would leave Exodus well before it got dangerous. I recalled the people died in La Paz, Mexico during Hurricane Odile because they stayed with their boats too long. If any amount of storm surge came in and unsettled the docks, we would leave. I wasn’t sure where we would go, though, but there were concrete buildings at the marina, which should be safe as the storm blew over. I decided to pack some food too.

It was ironic. Over the course of our journey, we had travelled thousands of miles to avoid being in a hurricane zone. We had gone all the way down to New Zealand only to have TC Pam come visit us in Opua and now we had gone all the way up to The Marshalls only to arrive back just a little too early.

Dark skies and heavy rain on Saturday morning

T minus 6 hours: A Small Consolation

The next weather update gave us a bit of an uplift. The chart below shows the forecast at 4/23 06:00 UTC (7pm Sat local time). TC Amos was still forecast to pass right over Apia in roughly 18 hours, but the forecast was downgraded from a Cat 4 to a Cat 3. We had seen rain off and on all day with light to moderate winds from the East.

Forecast from 4/23 06:00 UTC (Sat 7pm local time). Cat 3 TC Amos forecast to remain a Cat 3 and pass right over Apia, Samoa.

We didn’t know it at the time, but Amos would pass by us much sooner than forecast and by the time we got the next weather update it would all be over. The wind started to pick up between 7-8 pm and by about 10pm it was up in the 30 kt range. The gusts became more and more violent, and Tim would periodically go out in the pouring rain and check the status of the dock lines. We didn’t keep the wind instruments on all the time, so we didn’t have a record of the highest wind speed that we saw that night, which is a bit unsatisfying because the highest gust I have recorded in the logbook is 35 kt. I’m certain we saw at least 50 (we had been on Exodus long enough, we knew the windspeed by the way it sounded blowing through the rigging). I don’t remember what time the lightning started but it was visible off to the NW and it was absolutely spectacular.

T minus 3 hours: I Can’t Sleep

I went to bed around 10pm, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I started reading to keep my mind occupied hoping it would help me fall asleep, but not a chance. It was frustrating because at that point I thought we still wouldn’t see the worst until the morning and I wanted to be rested when that time came.

T minus zero: What!? It’s Over?

At some point after midnight, we experienced a total calm and then the wind shifted to the West.

Just after 1am Tim brought his iPad in to me to show me the updated forecast.

It was over.

Amos had already passed us and had stayed north of us the whole time. Based on that geometry we had seen our worst winds from the SE, which meant the geometry of Apia Harbor protected us from the storm surge after all. We had drinks to celebrate and then slept like babies. I never did tell Tim I had packed a bag to evacuate.

Below is the chart where I plotted Amos’s track as it passed us by that night. It was due north of us at approximately midnight and in the end, the center of the eye came as close as about 20 nmi as a Cat 3 cyclone.

Track of TC Amos

Time to Celebrate

We had a lazy Sunday morning and managed to talk with friends via SSB and let them know how lucky we were. In my enthusiasm I was screaming into the mike and only learned later that I had woken Emelie and Fred, but they cut me some slack because they of all people understood.

We ventured out in the afternoon to find some pizza and celebrate. Overall, Samoa fared well. There was some flooding and the harbor was muddy and littered, and I read there was some road damage, but nothing extreme and certainly no loss of life.

There was a pizza place right along the harbor that was open and we were the only ones there, and the beer and pizza tasted extra good.

Cheers to the cyclone slayers!

Fred and Emelie were walking back to the marina, so they joined us for our “We survived Amos” party.

The next post will be 100% dedicated to Cyclone Amos. It will be anti-climactic since, (spoiler alert) we and Exodus emerged entirely unscathed, but hopefully I can describe it as we expereienced it, without any sort of certainty that things would turn out the way they did.

News: Cyclone Amos Passes over Samoa

After that I’ll get on with the business of chronicling our last few months in the south Pacific. We will visit some new places and also return to some old stomping grounds.

We didn’t make it before dark. And we had never attempted a nighttime arrival to somewhere we hadn’t already been. In anticipation, during the day we made contact with our friends on Iguana who had been to Apia before, and they reported that the harbor is easy to transit and they had made a nighttime departure there easily. We had satellite imagery so we knew precisely where the edges of the reef were, and we had made contact with harbor control who had told us exactly where we could safely anchor in the harbor upon arrival. It was still a bit unnerving going in, mostly because when you are at the helm navigating at night you typically use navigation lights to guide you, but the harbor navigation lights weren’t in the same location as indicated by chart, plus Apia is a large town so the background lights were distracting and made it hard to read the navigation lights. Anyway, we made it in safely, and here’s what I wrote about it at the time:

“We arrived at Apia, Samoa last night, and we kinda pulled a Lady Carolina in that we arrived just after dark, but instead of following LC’s cautious (smart?) ways we went ahead and entered the harbor and dropped anchor at night. I was livid because it was beyond my risk tolerance considering that we’ve never been here and we didn’t even know where we should go once inside the harbor. It helped that Port Control answered the radio and advised where we could anchor for the night. Later, once safely at anchor, I thanked Tim for being bold and confident enough to come in at night because sitting there drinking the last of my Zaya was a whole lot nicer than standing another night watch. His response was, “well, luck favors the bold…” Didn’t exactly bolster my confidence in our decision making, but the rum still tasted good. So, instead of pulling a Lady Carolina I guess we pulled a Skabenga (“We’re not staying the night out here, we’re comin in….”) although in fairness to us, Apia is a much safer place to enter at night than Raroia.

P.S. I don’t know if I’ve ever written about Skabenga, but they are our friends who entered Raroia, an atoll in The Tuamotus, after dark, and they are pretty much the poster child for “luck favors the bold.”

P.P.S. In case you missed the hint above, I am out of Zaya. So, someone needs to come visit.”

If you followed our trip at all, you know who Lady Carolina is. They just always seemed to have this knack of arriving just after dark… They *never* would have done what we did!

Apia Harbor (no we didn’t actually get that close to the Jetty…iReach only updates once/15 min and then drraws a straight line.)

We finally raised anchor just after noon on Monday, 11 April, and wouldn’t you know it, the SB engine started without issue.

The first day out was the polar opposite of the previous passage: instead of bashing upwind in strong winds trying to avoid squalls and getting pushed off course by the current, we were comfortably sailing downwind in light air hoping for squalls and getting pushed toward our course by the current. There are lots of log entries during the first two days of the passage, so clearly, I was feeling a lot better this time. We saw light winds for several days all from the NE to NW, so even though we were now down in the southern hemisphere, the SE trades had not filled in, which was good since that was the direction we were trying to go. We saw the occasional squall that would disrupt things a bit, because they would come with a wind shift to the SW, however, they wouldn’t come with much of a wind increase so we just altered course until the wind would shift back. Throughout these first days of the passage, I was looking forward to returning to Funafuti. In an email, I wrote, “ I am looking forward to the rarity of returning to somewhere we’ve already been, a place where I already know the best places to provision and where to fill propane. It’s a small thing, but I’m finding some comfort in it.”

On Day 6 of the passage, we decided to bypass Funafuti and continue pressing Southeast. You’d think since I had just been musing about looking forward to it, I would have been heartbroken. But here’s what I wrote at the time:

“Within sight of Funafuti, we made the decision today to keep going and try to get to Wallis or better yet, Samoa, with these N-NW winds. It wasn’t as hard of a decision as you might think… backing up a bit, when we left Fiji back in November it was with the idea that we would return in May to haul out and then possibly cruise Fiji a little more. But since then we’ve found out that we can’t actually haul out in Fiji, the boatyards can’t haul boats our width, which means they can’t haul catamarans… I know, we were shocked. So our options became Vanuatu or Tonga, and since Tonga is more centrally located to possibly be more attractive to a buyer, we’ve changed our plans to go back to Tonga instead. Now, for the quick South Pacific geography/weather lesson… It’s really hard to go Southeast, because that’s the direction of the trade winds, and Tonga is southeast of Tuvalu. I’ve been wondering for awhile now how we were going to manage to get to Tonga, and this morning, a weather window presented itself, and if we can get to Samoa we will be in excellent shape. There have been a family of weak lows, and we’ve been riding the top of one to get NW winds in order to sail downwind from Kirbati to Funafuti. Now it looks like we might be able to continue that approach, and hopefully we’ll make it as far as Samoa. So, that’s why it wasn’t a hard decision… who knows when/if another weather window would open like this again. Of course, I’m about to download weather now, and things change and the window could close on us and then we would have to follow one of my 96 contigency plans. Morale is surprisingly high on board considering that this morning we thought we’d be making landfall today and now we have 4-6 more days underway. I made two loaves of bread today, so I think that helped. My crew is pretty easy to please.”

Knowing what I know now, it’s hard to read this and not reprimand myself for this decision, because although I didn’t mention it at the time, it was a huge gamble. Cyclone season doesn’t officially end until May, and before leaving Kwajalein I had studied the pilot charts to understand the risk of an April arrival, and I had satisfied myself with the data although the risk was not zero, the chances of a late April cyclone were extremely, extremely low;
So low that insurance companies don’t consider it cyclone season anymore, and we were still covered. However, at this point in the passage we were able to ride NW winds all the way down precisely because there was still cyclonic activity. I make mention of “a family of weak lows” and so we gambled that those lows would stay weak, but *spoiler alert* one of them most certainly doesn’t stay weak.

We were in sight of Funafuti when we decided to press on

For the rest of the passage, the days all blend together. The wind steadily increased until we were running with a nominal 25 kts of wind on the stern and seeing more and more frequent squalls up in the mid to high 30s. Skies were consistently gray, and sadly Exodus became somewhat of a hospice care facility for small birds that must have been blown off course. Five total made their way to rest on Exodus, 3 died on board and 2 flew away after being startled (fate unknown). Tim would try to nurse them back to health, trying to get them to eat and drink, but I think by the time they got to us they were already spent. Needless to say, I was not the one who had to clean up all the poop. That was Brenden’s job.

This little guy didn’t make it through the night

On Day 10, the wind shifted so we couldn’t sail a direct course to Apia. There was a slight chance we could make it that day, so Tim wanted to engine up and head straight there. But I thought the chances were so slim we likely wouldn’t make it before dark anyway, so I proposed we tack NE and then sail straight into Apia the next day. We argued, but Tim was just done with this passage, and he was hellbent on doing anything possible to try to make it that day.

Trip Summary:

Hours underway – 9 days 14:29 hours

Log miles – 1129 nmi, Avg speed – 4.9 kts

Track miles – 1135 nmi, Avg SOG 4.9 miles

DMG – 1065 nmi, Avg VMG – 4.6 kts

Engine hours – P only 15:08 hrs, SB only 25:11 hrs, Both 12:09 hrs

We had travelled a total of 2022 nmi to get from Kwajalein to Apia with only two quick pitstops along the way, and we were SO happy to be there.

It wasn’t exactly flat, but it wasn’t exactly uncomfortable either at our roadside anchorage at Onotoa. We laid low the first evening and the next morning we were welcomed by a massive squall with lots of rain and winds from the South. We rode it out and the rest of the stay was pretty pleasant.

Satellite image of Onotoa

We were visited by two local policemen who were dressed in a very official manner and who were extremely professional and polite. We invited them aboard, offered them some cookies, and basically told them the truth. We were headed to Funafuti and had planned to stop in Tarawa, which is the only official port of entry, but the wind was good, so we kept going, and now the wind is not good, so we needed to stop. They took down our passport numbers and told us we could stay and even gave us permission to go ashore to the village. We knew they would likely report us to the officials in Tarawa, and after that they might have to tell us to leave, but since it was Friday afternoon it was likely nothing would happen over the weekend, so we could relax for at least a couple days, and hopefully there would be weather to leave by Monday.

Tim and Brenden took them up on their permission to go ashore, and they met some very nice people and were given a tour of the village. Brenden said, “they had an *amazing* rope swing!” During our couple days there, Tim was invited spearfishing with a couple of the local men, some of the boys came out to Exodus to play, and Alex and Brenden tried to surf the reef break near where we were anchored. Under different circumstances we could see ourselves staying quite a bit longer there. On a bit of a down note, we lost the blue paddle board when we left it in the water at night. The boys noticed it was missing, and they tried to find it, but being parked roadside, it was long gone far out into the Pacific. This was really disappointing, but *spoiler alert* we will end up coming very close to losing the dinghy during our final visit to Tonga, so in hindsight losing a paddle board isn’t too bad.

A view of the village at Onotoa

Surfing the reef break

We ended up staying a total of three nights at Onotoa, since by Monday morning we had a favorable forecast to head south. Just as we had made the decision to leave, two men from the village came out to the boat to say hi. They brought us some coconuts and asked if they could take some photos, since they’d never been on a yacht before. For good measure, Tim ended up fixing their outboard, so needless to say we got a bit of a late start.

This passage south from The Marshalls to TBD in The South Pacific was as difficult to plan for as the passages to and from New Zealand, with an equator crossing thrown in for good measure. When we left Jaluit, we weren’t sure where we would end up, but we figured a probable next stop would be Tarawa, which meant it would probably be about a 3-day passage. The first day out had highs and lows: we managed to hook 3 Mahi Mahi, keeping only one, but we also had what amounted to a 5-hour squall from hell with max wind speed of about 37 kts.

The first two days of passage are mostly a blur for me as my usual sea lethargy was broaching into the full-blown realm of sea sickness. There are very few notes in the logbook other than at 6:05 am on the second day we had 2 reefs in the main and 1 in the genoa with 29.6 kts of wind from the NE. Considering we were trying to head SE this was a whole lot of yucky conditions.

On day 3 I finally emerged from my funk. There are lots of notes in the logbook, and I sent the following email to friends and family back home:

“I finally came out of my sea sickness funk about mid-morning. After being pretty much non-functioning for the better part of two days, I ended up having a really great day at sea today. I spent much of this afternoon at the helm listening to music, watching the waves, and counter swaying to the motion of the boat, enjoying just being out here, in a way that I can’t remember since our Pacific crossing. I guess after being so low for two days, just a regular day at sea seemed like a high. I really need a shower, though.”

We still had the reefs in the sails, and we were still seeing 15-22 kts from the NE, but the forecast said we were going to have wind for another couple days and then it would die for a while. A 2-3 kt current from the East had emerged which made it hard to get much easting, but as we approached Tarawa, we decided to press on hoping to make it down to one of the islands in southern Kiribati. Alex was happy we weren’t going to stop, because he really liked passages at this point in our journey. He liked them because he was pretty much left alone to do whatever he wanted all day, which meant alternating between reading, listening to music, playing guitar, and watching movies or TV shows on the computer. Brenden, on the other hand, hated passages, and he was the only one truly disappointed that we weren’t going to stop in Tarawa. He just wanted the boat to stop moving. Tim and I both would also have loved for the boat to stop moving, but we knew if we stopped we would miss out on a couple days of wind and then could be stuck in Tarawa for a while. So, we sucked it up and pressed on.

The next day the current from the East got even worse to more like 3-4 kts. Exodus has a hard enough time pointing upwind and compounding it with this current from the windward was like some sort of cruel joke. We started to wonder if maybe we should head to Vanuatu after all. The only good news at this point was that we caught a yellow fin tuna, so our freezer was at that point stocked with Mahi Mahi AND tuna, so we were good to extend this passage for a while. Funny though… with fresh tuna in the fridge available for sashimi or seared steaks, we opted for hot dogs for dinner. Cruisers are a strange breed sometimes. Fresh tuna was a ho hum experience while hot dogs were a novelty.

We crossed the equator for the third time in the wee dark hours of the morning on Thurs, 7 April. I slept through it again. (If you missed our spectacular first equator crossing, you can watch the video here.)

On day 5 we started having some engine trouble, and of course it happened early in the morning when I was up alone on my morning watch. The batteries were low, so I decided to run an engine for a while to give them a little charge. (I don’t like to run the generator when I’m up by myself in bouncy sea conditions.) I checked the log to see which engine we should run but when I pressed the button to start the SB side, nothing happened. So, I started the port side with no problem and let it run for a few minutes before trying the SB again, since running one engine will charge the other engine’s starter battery. This time SB started. Of course, Tim’s response when he got up was that it must have been operator error.

The next morning after being greeted by a pod of tiny dolphins, we made it within 3 miles of the island of Onotoa before the wind died down. Of course, when we went to start the engines, the SB wouldn’t turnover, and this time it wouldn’t even start after running the port for a while. We eventually started it by turning the switch to start the SB engine off the port engine starter battery. But while we were distracted with all of that we got hit with a 25 kt squall straight from the south. Which meant to get down to where we could anchor at Onotoa we had to motor bash directly into the wind. For a while we worried we wouldn’t be able to anchor. But the wind died down and we picked a spot roadside, on the outside of the atoll. With all the squalls we weren’t exactly comfortable with the idea of being stuck inside a shallow, difficult to navigate atoll without previous waypoints or waypoints from another cruiser. Plus, we didn’t have permission to be there, so we didn’t want to be too pushy.

Passage from Jaluit to Onotoa

Passage Summary:

Hours underway: 5 days 3:45 hours

Log miles 729 nmi, Avg Speed 5.9 kts

Track miles – 666 nmi, Avg SOG – 5.4 kts

Engine hours: Port only 13:32, Both 2:37

We arrived at Onotoa at 16:04 on Friday, 8 April.