Farewell French Polynesia, Hello Fiji

We picked up our passports and completed exit documentation from the Gendarmerie, then ran around and spent every last one of our XPF currency. Soon we were back on the boat for the final departure prep. 

We sailed out into a clear and beautiful afternoon with moderate easterlies, but with some trepidation. We'd diligently whacked all the maintenance moles and the boat was ready to go. But now, the  generator had decided to start it's intermittent fault game again, shutting itself off every 10 minutes. No generator would mean no freezer, no fridge, no watermaker, and no autopilot. But there was nothing for it unless we wanted to go back to Raiatea and chance another week to try and find someone to fix it. 

The weather modelling had us scribing a big arc to the north, finishing at about the same latitude, but avoiding a big windless hole that was forecast in the middle. 

After an uneventful first night’s sail, which allowed the engine room to cooled down, it was time to get the tools and get in there to try and find the issue. We knew there were 3 cut off solenoids; water and exhaust temperature, and oil pressure. Our research suggested one of these was the culprit. 

I located the water temperature solenoid and managed to disconnect it after some gymnastics with the screwdriver. I then had a look at some of the other electrical wiring, and noticed a loose wire attached to a loose screw in the engine block. Hmm. Easso passed me some loctite and a couple of spring washers and I put it all back together again. Voila! The instrument panel immediately stopped the ditzy shenanigans it had been displaying for the last few months, and the genny was as solid as a rock. A very big relief for the team. After that we were really able to relax properly. 

The moderate NE winds were predicted to hang in for a few days, then turn SE and freshen. It was time to break out the spinnaker for the first part of the voyage and enjoy some champagne sailing. 

We quickly fell into a rhythm of rotating shifts which allowed everyone to get a 6 hour sleep in at night. There were no phones, no emails, we were 100% disconnected and living in the moment. 

Books, podcasts, meals, sunrises and sunsets became part of the revolving night/day engagement with the boat and the ocean.

The Dawn Shift

We had noticed that our northerly path took us right past Suwarrow, a very remote island and national park that is notionally park of the Cook Islands administration. We knew it was still closed, but we thought the chance of an international diplomatic incident was low if we were found out; so we hove to in the wee hours and waited until dawn to come in through the pass. 

We made our way to the designated anchorage: no sign of life until we saw the speedboat on the shore. Uh oh, we were about to be busted. I called the ranger on VHF 16 but it was some time until there was a response. 

First was a blunt reminder that Suwarrow was off limits. I feigned ignorance but agreed to comply with any direction. The ranger then advised that a stop was only permitted in case of an emergency. Did we have an emergency? I ummed and ahhed. He repeated the question, did I detect a leading tone? I wised up and pulled out one of our pre-prepared gambits: I advised yes we'd had a suspect collision with a whale and needed to inspect the hull.  We were duly granted 24 hours on strict condition we did not step ashore. Then he asked, did we have any hacksaw blades or tobacco? He'd be happy to pay. And could we charge the laptop and phone for him? Of course Sir, we are more than happy to assist.... 

It turns out Harry had been doing the ranger's gig for 14 years. They are dropped off (with 7 months of supplies!), then perform ranger duties on the island for 7 months, and then they are lifted off again before cyclone season. Unfortunately their generator had developed a problem. A patrol boat had collected it but no-one had dropped it back yet. 

Suwarrow is a series of small islands and a reef surrounding a lagoon. The bird life was spectacular. It was a shame to not be allowed ashore. But we had some great snorkelling, amongst the curious black tip reef sharks, who seemed like cute mascots until there were 6 or more at which point they seemed to give off slightly malevolent vibe. 

Snorkelling in the lagoon

Reef sharks: Friendly we think

Harry’s boat on the beach. We could look but not set foot thereon. 

Suwarrow Lagoon - we anchored just behind the island at the pass.

See ya Suwarrow

After our 24 hour interlude we were underway again. We quickly resumed the sleep/watch/eat/sleep cycle. We had set up a neat boom preventer system, so we thought we'd try poling out the genoa. We set up more preventers for the pole and pushed the genoa out. Contrary to the previous owner's negative warnings this turned out to be a simple and very comfortable mode of sailing. 

Finally we approached Fijian waters. The wind started to die down on the last afternoon, but we didn't want to arrive at Savusavu in darkness so we continued sailing. It was a surreal last evening, Evenstar ghosting along on a near-flat sea through a crimson sunset and into a quiet night's sail.  

Dawn on the final morning.  

We duly arrived at Savusavu at 7AM the next morning, and called the Coprashed Marina on VHF 16. The welcome was super friendly, helpful and courteous. The night shift guy raced out in the tinny to help us on to a mooring. The contrast to the attitude in French Polynesia was stark and welcome.   

We waited and the various customs, immigration and biosecurity people came out to the boat over the course of the morning. We were free to step on shore so we could complete the various (quite reasonable) payments that were needed. 

Happy Hour at the very laid back Savusavu yacht club was 5pm, at which time the Fiji Bitter was FJD2.50 a serve. A few recently arrived yachties were at the bar exchanging war stories about their long and (for some) arduous passages. A great wrap up for our first big passage.