Bora Bora to Vava’u

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We left Bora Bora at sunrise on Sunday, headed Vava’u in Tonga. We are routing north of Maupihaa atoll first, in case the forecast turns nasty for the Cook Islands /Tonga. That way we can head for Samoa instead. The wind was initially light, but filled in to around 15-18 knots so we were making good miles. With a swell below 2m and evenly spaced it was very pleasant.

We are dealing with faults on both our DC-DC chargers, so we have to manage power closely. Fortunately, it was quite sunny, and our solar panels managed to get the batteries back to 100% every day.

The wind died just before 10AM Tuesday, marking the arrival of the rain front associated with a low-pressure system hundreds of miles south of our position. The 9AM weather update also showed potential nasty weather moving in over the Tonga area within 24 hours of our predicted arrival time. Bobbing and rolling at 2 knots in barely a breath of wind was not an option, so the motor was started, and we were soon chugging along at around 5 knots towards our destination.

In the afternoon we bagged the staysail and stowed both poles, as downwind sailing is not in our future for the next few days. We motored for almost last 20 hours but, on the upside, the remaining functional but erratic DC-DC charger kept pumping out a steady if disappointing 30 Amps (from our 115 Amp alternator).

The forecast rain started in the late afternoon on Wednesday (why always just as it is about to get dark??) and became torrential with gusty headwinds to 25 knots around 10:30PM. The captain was summoned and, after surveying the scene for an hour, declared that there was nothing to be done, leaving the first mate, by now in life jacket, to keep the ship steady. The rain came and went all night, accompanied by gusty southerly wind. Some diffuse lightning was also visible to the north, but the radar showed nothing except a large cell more than 36 miles to the north.

At daybreak on Thursday the rain eased, and the wind abated to around 5 knots (of course, it was now daylight), revealing a pretty flat sea. “It won’t stay like this”, we said, and sure enough, things started going downhill shortly after. The forecast was for SSE winds at 12 knots, steadily increasing to 16 knots through the day. The reality on the water was a rapid increase to around 20 knots, gusting 25 of winds from the SSW, i.e. forward of the beam. The sea state also rapidly deteriorated into the “washing machine” state. In addition, we the difference between our heading and actual course was 10 to 15 degrees, and it appeared we were making a lot of leeway, requiring a further turn into the wind. We were soon crashing into and over waves with only the triple reefed main and half the small headsail. The winds were gusty too, with even the small sail plan groaning and propelling us to over 8 knots during the gusts.

In last night’s update a deep and extensive low-pressure system south of us had materialised, with the forecast high being squashed to a small ridge. Dave, the skipper on Warrior, who is 100 miles south/ahead of us, sent us an update from his onshore weather router pointing out that the low is visible on the satellite imagery and would torment us for a while longer but that the impacts would abate over the next 24 hours.

It was difficult to keep any sort of pace up in these conditions as Sunny Spells would just launch herself off the top of each wave and crash back into the water with every passing swell. We had to slow down and turn downwind a bit to preserve boat and sanity.

Conditions very slowly improved through the night, mostly as the waves became more regular and our wind angle improved ever so slightly. It is now Friday morning, and the wind is still gusting 26 knots on the beam, so we are not out of the woods just yet.

The next phase

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Sunny Spells is now anchored in the still waters of Phaeton Bay, Tahiti. We motored down here from Pointe Venus this morning in light air, entered the lagoon through Passe Tapuaeraha — threading between sets of surfers catching the long left-handers — and made our way into one of the calmest, most secure anchorages we’ve seen in months. The boat barely moves and it’s a perfect place to pause, reflect, and start building what comes next.

We’re particularly pleased with how well our new cockpit displays performed during the Pacific crossing. The two displays installed either side of the companionway when we were still in the Med ran non-stop for the entire crossing without a single reboot. Conditions were full-on at times — decks wet, wind on the beam, occasional green water over the rail — and the units shrugged it all off. Salt spray, sun, heat, and constant use: no glitches, no drama.

Over the course of 4,000 miles, the displays earned their keep. The high-contrast, legible graphics meant we could easily read them from across the cockpit, even in bright sunlight or in the pitch dark of night watch. The self-dimming brightness was flawless — it always seemed to be just right, whether under the noon sun or a moonless sky.

The interface to our masthead windvane was a noticeable improvement over the old ST60: a smoother and more stable wind angle display, damping was effective without lag, making the readout far easier to steer by.

The touch interface also came into its own. Even when wet with spray, the touchscreen remained responsive. And because we could configure either screen to show any data, we could always get the info we needed at either helm — when had steering we both prefer a heading display straight ahead with the wind on the other display.

I’m convinced these displays will fill a void in the market. My goal for the coming weeks: make it even more useful, more intuitive, and even more like the touch devices we already use every day.

What’s coming:

  • A navigation display with a large heading, a CDI, and SOG, COG, and DTW feeds.
  • A dedicated true wind pointer on the wind instrument screen, so we can see both true and apparent wind at the same time, rather than toggling between them.
  • A UI that does away with the physical buttons. The touchscreen has proven itself — even in rough, wet conditions — so we’re embracing it fully with a swipe-based interface to move between screens (or “apps”), and tap targets on-screen (like units or values) to change them, just like you would on a smartphone.

It’s exciting to be in a place where we can pause and build. Phaeton Bay is quiet, sheltered, and still enough for a floating workshop. Over the next few weeks, while Sunny Spells rests, we’ll be coding, testing, and bringing these new features to life — right here on the water where they belong.

Photos to follow — for now, it’s time for a swim, a stretch, and maybe a glass of something cold. After all, landfall has its perks.

Fakarava to Tahiti

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We were up at 5AM to exit via the south pass at sunrise and, theoretically, just after slack (high) water. At the shallowest part of the pass the ebb current was already running three to four knots. The overfalls were not too bad, but outside the pass the wind and swell meeting the out flowing water made for a nasty washing machine!

The sea state was lumpy all day yesterday – short and steep 2m waves less than 5 seconds apart. Not at all what the forecast promised. At least the wind was fair, 15 to 20 knots from behind, and we have averaged better than 7 knots all day, making a daylight landfall in Tahiti potentially doable.

Our clear plastic cockpit enclosure is beginning to show its age. One of the issues is that the white thread used by the sailmaker to sow all the white zips to the canvas is not UV proof and is now simply disintegrating. A section of about half a meter let go today, but fortunately Maria is a dab hand with the hand stitcher!

A few cloud fronts passed over in the night, but mostly countered the trade wind, resulting in less wind rather than more.

Around the middle of the day the wind just up and died, just after a light rain shower. Once our speed dropped below 2.5 knots I couldn’t stand it any longer, so the engine was started and we motored the last 5 hours to Tahiti. A bit of a disappointment as it was looking good for getting here in daylight under sail. We doused the two foresails and stowed the two poles and then rolled out the genoa on the starboard side to get a little push from the very light wind (about 5 knots) on our beam. Thus we motor-sailed until we got a mile or so away from the anchorage.

The night entry into the anchorage was not particularly difficult, but we had to pay attention as there were three boats here already. We let go the anchor in 9 metres and put out 50 metres of chain. The bottom here, behind Pointe Venus is apparently black sand from the volcanic formations, with good holding. Our anchor set solidly straightaway, and the anchorage was surprisingly calm and surge free, making for a good night’s sleep.

South Pass at Fakarava Atoll, Tuamotus

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We spent three days anchored at the south pass at Fakarava. Our initial attempt at anchoring was abandoned when I snorkeled to check the anchor and found that the area was traversed by cables from a long-abandoned pearl farm we moved half a mile east and found a nice sandy patch. We went for a snorkel around the boat and were immediately targeted by the Remora fish, assuming were sharks due for a clean I guess!

I managed to join Enata Diving for a two-tank drift dive through the pass, which turned out to be a top experience and worth every penny. The pass is 30m deep in places and they fill the tanks with nitrox as a matter of course to avoid all the mucking about with decompression stops and bottom time limits that would come into play with two relatively deep dives in close succession. Technicalities aside, the dive was truly spectacular: literally hundreds of sharks cruise the pass, mingling with gigantic napoleon wrasse, manta rays and too many other species to mention.

I was privileged to have Jacqueline Evers from The Netherlands as my dive buddy. She is truly inspiring, solo sailing around the world in her 27-foot sloop.

Yesterday Maria and I went back in the dinghy and snorkeled the edge of the pass twice, drifting with the dinghy in tow. A great experience as the colours are always better in the shallow water. The sides of the pass are really steep, so we could see all the way to the bottom. No shortage of sharks either!