We left Rarotonga yesterday in rainy conditions, with nearly total cloud cover. It wasn't the ideal situation for a departure, but we are under pressure to arrive in Samoa on time for their 50th anniversary of independence. With this in mind, there are a couple of factors we are considering in our course line. First, there is a large storm system currently in the vicinity of Samoa, stretching as far as the western Cooks. In order to avoid sailing into the middle of the storms, we're currently on a heading of due west as far as 170 degrees longitude (maybe we'll sight Niue). We should hit that point sometime tomorrow, at which point, weather permitting, we will turn northwest for the run to Samoa. Because there is a need to arrive together, traditional navigation has been suspended as a primary means of direction, and all wakas are following a common course line, sailing by GPS. Of course, we can still use traditional navigation to monitor our course and position, but frankly, we were under 90% cloud cover last night and it would have been extremely difficult to maintain course through traditional means. It was a really good night for us, we held good speed, averaging probably 9-10 kts. There was a fair bit of rain, also. Like the piggy says in the GEICO commercial, "Pure adrenaline." We headed out from Rarotonga at the head of the pack, although we were passed by other canoes in the afternoon. During the night watches, however, we ran them down one by one, Murray, who is on the 10-2 watch, was having a ball coming up behind the other canoes, and following them when they tried evasive action. Knowing that Haunui performs better downwind, when the others turned up, he slid right by. When I got up for my watch (6-10), we were in the lead. A lot of that had to do with some of the work done in Rarotonga prior to departure. One thing that affects sailing performance is the set angle of the masts, called the "rake". Our two masts had ended up at slightly different angles, so we readjusted them to parallel, following the rake Hinemoana and Te Matau use. The former captain of Haunui asked, "why?". This morning he has our answer, since he is on Faafaite, and they're out of sight. It has been somewhat of a relief not to have to navigate, as it means I get sleep. On the previous legs, I slept about 3 hours a day. This is positive luxury. This is one of the legs that reminds me that sailing is not all starry mights and brilliant sunsets. The chill last night was enough for some of us to think about digging out socks and boots...just a small taste of what we'll experience in July when we head for New Zealand. As I am sleeping in the forward-most compartment, I felt every wave we went over and heard every wave splash over the bow. There is a lullaby, however, in the sound of the sea rushing by your ears. It is soothing in its own way, and we all sleep very well. In fact, any sailor will tell you that dreams are strange and vivid at sea. When I was navigating with Wati, we compared notes on the short flashes of dream we had during those times we slipped into sleep. The power of the sea is in evidence around us every day. When you're steering with the hoe, it's you against the sea's strength. The waves roll us in odd directions, and walking on deck is a cross between looking like a drunk and a really good core workout. It is such a different world out here...amazing every moment. Even the seemingly endless consistency of the waves is mesmerizing to watch. Like the C & K song "Sailors of Fortune" says, "somewhere beyond the blue horizon, there is an island waiting for me..."
Samoa, here we come!
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