Hive Oa to Fatu Hiva.

May 15
Hive Oa to Fatu Hiva. 

IT was supposed to be an easy overnight sail from Hiva Oa to Fatu HIva.  There is  a full moon and it is only 40 miles.  Leaving in the evening  should put us there at dawn.  If we leave in the morning there is a good chance we will not make it before dark.  Alan has a long nap in the afternoon and we head out about 4pm.  As we leave the little harbor we realize that the wind is blowing hard with white caps everywhere.  Now only that but there are big swells and a strong current all going directly against us.  It probably would have been smart to ask some other the other boats for a weather report since our system is still not working.   We could still turn back but we decided to go on.  Chances are it will settle once we get our of the channel between these three islands. 

It is 2 hours till sunset and we use all of that time getting the sails up, with me on the tiller trying to keep the boat steady and into the wind and waves while Alan balances on the foredeck hoisting sails.  By the time we are done I am feeling very queasy so I grab a seasick patch.  It helps a lot but I am still not too chipper and now I am sleepy also.  Once everything is set and the motor is off I head below to heat up some dinner for Alan, along with a couple of thermoses of  hot tea.  The huge swells are tossing the boat from side to side and once again everything that wasn’t ties down is thrown all over.  This includes things that had ridden safely from Vallarta to the Marquesas.  Apparently we have found a new angle of rolling. 

Once I have handed Alan’s dinner out to him and settled things as much as possible, I climb into bed.  Unlike most people, my favorite way of getting through the first hours of seasickness is to sleep.  If I can lie down and settle into the rhythm of the boat it usually goes away.  Not this time however.  There is no rhythm, just rocking and rolling from side to side and those moments when we hang at the top of a wave before suddenly dropping, just to climb up again.  This is not going to work.  Eventually i give up and move out to the cabin.  The settee here is lower and more mid-ships and I finally drift off. 

Meanwhile, out on deck, Alan is having the time of his life.  Dressed in yellow oilskins and a big grin, he is just sailing along under clear skies and a full moon.  I wake up and poke my head out about every two hours or so to see if I need to relieve him but he is doing fine.  Good, because I am not.  Back to bed again, back to sleep.  Move very carefully.  About 4am, the wind dies way down and Alan decides that he would like a nap,  if I am up to steering.   We were about 15 miles from the island and moving at about 1-2 knots.  He wants to wait until dawn and then motor on in.  Unfortunately I am still not feeling great so instead of going below he just stretches  out next to the cockpit.  Good thing because within 10 minutes I managed to get us completely off course and heading north instead of south. Nonetheless, I struggle on until dawn and he at least gets to rest. 

At dawn we can see the island, directly into the wind from our position.  We can either sail all day,  tacking off to the east and then back to the southwest or just take the sails down and motor from here.  Guess which we choose.  Alan once more scrambles up to the foredeck while I handle the tiller and we get the sails down. 3 house later we enter into beautiful Hanavave bay. . There are about 15 other boats already anchored in this tiny bay,  a number of friends from Puerto Vallarta. as well as ones that we have heard on the radio  This is a steep volcanic island.  Green cliffs plunge straight down into clear water.  It takes some doing to find a spot that isn’t impossibly deep but we finally settled in 10 fathoms (60 feet).  After a quick swim and lunch, Alan settles down to sleep for the rest of the day.