UTC/Local Time: 0217 Saturday June 25, 20011/1317
Latitude: S 20 14.275
Longitude: E 169 46.606
Update: So Glad to Be Here!
According to our weather forecasting information, the winds are supposed to pick up to 25 or more knots later today and last through tomorrow. Our plan was of course to get here before the winds. Well, guess what? They came a day early. Along with the 25+ knot winds came 2-3 meter rolling seas. Last night was just darned uncomfortable as we were between a beam and a close reach with the angle of the wind.
The reach kept us well heeled, but when those rollers would hit us on the beam, we were rolling into the exiting waves and getting a lot of water on the lee deck, squishing through the doors.
As we approached Vanuatu, we also started getting some traffic. I kind of like having the big old ocean all to ourselves and get a little (very) tense when I spot traffic, particular fishing boats with bright lights as it is difficult if not impossible to see which way they are running. I woke Russ up just as he was drifting to sleep around 8:00 o'clock because there were some big white lights in front of us getting closer and closer. There was no AIS identification signal coming from their boat. We could see them on radar and had a visual.
Because the large waves, the radar image was bouncing and we couldn't see a clear direction of their course overground.
Visually, if we see a green light on their bow, we know they are moving across our path from port to starboard (left to right). If we see a red light on their bow, we know they are moving across our path from starboard to port (right to left). If we see both a red and green, they are coming at us. If we see white lights, we know we are coming up on their stern.
Fishing boats are so lit up with white lights, it blinds the eye to any other colors. We know they are either standing still or moving, but don't know which direction. When the waves are big like they were last night and we are on a close reach and moving fast, the approaching boat lights disappear while they are in a trough or we are in a trough, then they reappear and are bigger than the last time we saw them. We know we are closing the gap quickly.
Since were on a close port reach and the traffic was about 1:00 on our starboard side, it would be a close squeeze by if they were moving towards us. We decided to give Hydie a rest and hand steer. After watching them on radar for awhile (they were within 3 miles of us), Russ thought we could probably pass safely and stay on course, but it would be a tight pinch. Every time I tried to angle away from the vessel and more into the wind, the sails would luff, we would lose boat speed and not accomplish a good measure of distance.
Since I was at the helm and a nervous wreck thanks to our friends on Trim who had just written an article for publication of a near-death experience with an out of control fishing trawler, I chose to fall off so that I had more course options, and we would pass them on our port side with a greater margin of space. Little by little, their lights got smaller and we passed them to port. Better safe than sorry.
After that, we started to see more AIS traffic signals, but none that came any closer to us than 20 miles. When Russ got up for his watch, we needed to make some sail adjustments. The wind was shifting around and we were moving too fast. We would reach our destination too early in the dark hours of the morning. We reduced sail and eased off the trim.
An examination of our trailing dinghy presented us with another little Uh oh! The metal loop on the front of the dinghy to which our painter line was tied had snapped off. Now the dinghy was being trailed by a thinner anchor line which was the backup. We said our goodbyes to Avon as we were sure she would be a goner some time during the night. The waves and wind were steadily increasing. We had hoped from our weather information that we wouldn't see these winds until the following day. No such luck.
When Russ woke me at 6:30, I looked out the portholes through sleep blurred eyes to see mountains of water, and oh yes, a real mountain in the distance. We were getting close to Anatom, but had still been moving so fast that we overshot our entrance mark while it was still dark and Russ let me sleep in. Now we had to reduce sail some more and do some back tracking. Russ's first plan was to do a controlled jibe. My plan was to turn on the motor and come about. We decided to go on deck and see how bad the waves really were. It might be too risky to jibe. Our little Avon, believe it or not, was still tethered to us. Jibing would temporarily put the wind and following waves at our back. I was afraid the Avon would wind up on top of our bimini if we jibed.
Once we were on deck, we realized the best thing to do was to bring the boat into a fore reaching position, nose into the wind, slow her down, and still trail the dinghy behind away from the propellor, and prepare the rigging for a sail change. When we were ready to go, I gave the motor just enough throttle to get us out of the fore reach and make the turn. Done! Now we were ready to go on in. Russ called for port control on the VHF. Ha! No one on the island has a VHF. The only response was from a fellow cruiser, Emily Grace. He gave us some encouragement getting through to the harbor and where we might want to anchor.
By 9:30, we were in the bay and anchored with our yellow quarantine flag flying. The bay is a horseshoe of sorts with low lying reefs protecting it from the swell, but not so much from the wind. At 10:00 our first official came out to the boat. He was the quarantine official and we were lucky that he was here. He had just checked out a cruise ship the night before and would be returning to Tanna in less than an hour by way of plane and the small landing strip on the atoll side of the island. We weren't sure whether the officials worked on the weekend. Some do and some are only on the island periodically. The quarantine man was very nice. He asked asked about fruits, vegetables, meats, on board. Nothing seemed to be a problem except he asked us to keep our food on board and not take it ashore. Also, please take any garbage to Tanna and throw nothing over board. He also assured us that the mosquitos on this island did not carry malaria. Nice to know as we had read in an older cruising guide that malaria was a problem in Vanuatu. Seems as if this may now be better controlled. Our quarantine fee was 3,000 Vatu (appx. $35.00). Not sure if this is the standard fee or the weekend fee.
While our "We're here!" adrenalin was still in gear, we cleaned up the boat. It really gets thrashed on a passage, ate some lunch and were finally just laying down for a rest when the customs official came aboard. We chatted with the official, offered him some cola, and got our paper work completed. We have to pay a customs fee in Tanna and go through immigration at that time. Anatom has just recently become a check in port. The custom official is a trainees and not all of the procedures can be completed here yet. Since we are planning on going into Tanna anyway, this won't be a problem for us. As long as we have now cleared quarantine and part 1 of customs, we can come to the island....and yes, we still have a dinghy to get us there.
Snorkeling in the marine reserve and hike to a 50 meter waterfall are the big attractions. This is a very remote little island with no motor vehicles and no grocery store. We'll probably be here 4 days or so resting and enjoying before heading north. Now that we are here, I may not do a daily report, but will keep you posted. Thanks for sailing with us.
All is well with the 2 Sail R's on Worrall Wind.
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