The passport prizes have been rewarded, the free internet available during the regatta is long gone, and the harbor here in Vava’u is slowly beginning to empty. This morning we said farewell and wished safe seas to our dear friends, Geoff & Julie, on s/v Flashback. I knew it was going to be hard to say adios to them but it was especially hard to hug Julie goodbye. For me, having Julie around was like having one of my greatest friends, Courtney, right here by my side. Their advice, their ability to listen, and this incredible sarcasm that they both possess is like one in the same and I have told Julie so many, many times. I will greatly miss talking, laughing, sharing glasses of wine, and just being girly for a bit with her. They’re both just amazing, amazing people and whether it be New Zealand to ring in the New Year or another year further down the road, I know we will see them again and I am already looking forward to that reunion…

For those of you who have not heard the news yet, by the grace of the sea gods watching over us, our dinghy has been found! A local fisherman found our beloved water craft off the coast of Niue, an island we had sailed away from just a few days before. The dinghy was upside down and we assume it flipped over the reef leaving Beveridge, making the entire journey to Niue’s coast with the outboard underwater. For roughly 15 days it traveled approximately 140 miles and luckily for us, right into the hands of a very honest, local fisherman. (added by Drew…here he is! The hero! His name is Ape (pronounced Ah Pay) and he is from the village of Vaiea on Niue.)

Once turned over to the Niue police, our dinghy was impounded and placed in its own jail cell. Literally locked up for misbehavior. The good news reached us via Marc & Jane, s/v Imagine, who heard about the dinghy while they themselves were in Niue. Drew and I have learned in our time here on the water not to ever get your hopes up about anything so until we made contact with the commodore of the Yacht Club in Niue and exchanged serial numbers, we weren’t believing it. Low and behold, turns out it was ours, in good shape, and the local fisherman was even able to get the outboard engine up and running again! A reward was sent via Western Union here in Tonga, obviously to be handed over to the guy who found the dinghy, and a ceremony took place to officially release the dinghy from the Niue Police Department into the care of the Yacht Club. Drew and I have bailed out the dinghy before but we’ve never had to bail it out in this way! Now we sit and wait in hopes that a sailing vessel will come through Niue large enough to throw our dinghy up on board and bring it the 250 miles to us here in Tonga. Jokes were even made that they could throw it off the wharf in Niue and it’d find it’s way back to us here and of course now we can laugh at that. Need be, we’ll return to pick it up but chances are in our favor that someone will be able to bring it with them. Drew and I would like to extend our sincerest thanks and gratitude to the fisherman, the Niue police, the “Imaginary” family, and especially Keith Vial, the commodore of the Yacht Club who spent a lot of time going back and forth with us via email to get this all straightened out. We cannot begin to tell you the relief you have brought us and we are so incredibly appreciative!

So for now Drew and I will sit patiently in Tonga awaiting news that the dinghy is on its way. As I write I sit and watch as Drew slowly picks through cabinets and cubby holes taking pictures of all that will be sold both separately and with the boat. I have to admit his last post about the boat going on the market drew mixed feelings for me. As I read it for the first time, alongside all of you, it brought tears to my eyes. There has never been a single moment in our relationship, even when we weren’t living aboard, that I was unaware of Drew’s love and passion for this particular vessel. I will never be able to comprehend the amount of time and energy that went into making her what she is. I do, however, live in the results of his labor and can physically see the details of the love that went into each inch of Dosia. In even my most frustrated moments aboard, I try so hard to think about the future, when I’m sitting behind a desk or on a couch, and would trade anything for my butt to be on a beach instead, and do all I can to use that as a reminder to live in this moment, relish in it, and take all from it that I possibly can. As the final months of our trip begin to unfold, I am torn on how I feel about the journey coming to an end. I know that Drew and I have an incredible life with great adventures ahead of us and I definitely see another boat, more islands, and more sunsets in our future. Something tells me Drew’s going to make sure of that!

I keep on saying it…Niue and Beveridge Reef (a part of Niue) were the wildest places I’ve ever been. Here’s why:

1) The anchorage at Beveridge alone was an experience with the high winds and waves coming over the reef coupled with first time anchor drags and the resulting late-night, pitch-black resets. We haven’t sat calmly still at anchor since Aitutaki. It’s not comfortable but I guess one could see it as part of the wildness. I’d like to say we’ve grown accustomed to rolling around and sudden shifts of the boat while we’re “safely” anchored but screw that. Nobody likes that stuff. It was all part of the adventure though.

2) The whales. From the first sighting outside Beveridge to basically living among them in the mooring field at Niue, the whales defined this part of the trip. People pay loads of money to experience nature like that. We had it outside our backdoor for free.

3) Spearfishing at Beveridge. Patrick and I were all by ourselves in the water for hours on end while the only other people within hundreds of miles, Marge and Rebecca, were still over a mile away on an upwind dinghy ride. It was surreal. Hunting fish through underwater ravines and avoiding the curious grey sharks and the white tips will be a memory long after my blisters heal. The fact I duct taped my feet and ignored the pain of each fin stroke shows just how much fun it was. I’ll never forget losing that last really nice grouper to the white tips. Little f_c_ers!

4) The hikes to the chasms and caves on Niue aren’t too long but nobody can deny they are dangerous. The eroding limestone is sharp and at some points you are basically crawling over the stuff. At other places large holes are hidden by decaying vegetation and still other places are covered in slippery rock. It seems the whole island is made for breaking ankles. And then there’s those huge dropoffs, cliffs, deep chasms and caves, massive seas crashing around everywhere throwing spray 30 feet in the air….basically everything you’re there to see. Check out these videos of us pushing the limits or being just plain stupid. Whichever, it was an adrenaline rush. The rock Allan and I were standing on was actually moving with the power of the waves coming in!

**video will be inserted here** whenever I come to the realization that, yes, sometimes you have to pay for internet and I realize that internet is slow as crap here and I just have to be patient!

5) Vaikona Cave. This place is wild and dangerous and scary and it’s almost ridiculous they allow people to explore on their own. That being said, I loved every minute of it. I’d do it again in a hot minute.

6) Even though we don’t have a dinghy at the moment and didn’t have to deal with it, you gotta love a place where the only dock in the only “safe harbor” on the island has a crane to lift your dinghy out of the water so it doesn’t get destroyed on rocks in the swell.

7) Sea Snakes. I saw them on a dive I did with Seth and Elizabeth from Honeymoon and I saw them on the surface but one morning when I answered a call from a neighbor boat looking for a diver to untangle their anchor from the rocks I saw way too many of them. They are funky and weird and venomous as hell (harmless to humans because their mouths are too small) and Niue was my first time being in the water with them. One more wild thing to experience.

So there you are. The wildest place I’ve ever been. Looking back on the last month, we’ve had crap weather and lost the dinghy but I still can’t complain. Somebody sent us an email saying we should put a donation tab on the site to try and recoup some money for what the dinghy mishap might cost. I considered it for a moment and thought about how much it ticks me off when cruisers or travelers ask for donations on their blogs. Margie reminded me of how f-ed up I thought it was that a certain cruiser was (and still is) bumming money off Latitude 38 readers and they keep on giving it to her. If you don’t have enough to be out here and pay for your lifestyle and your repairs and your f-ups, you shouldn’t be here. Don’t give me money to perpetuate my dream while putting yours off. So Get Lost On Purpose shall remain free of that crap. After all, I’m out here on a sailboat in the South-freaking-Pacific. What could I possibly have to complain about?

Charts showing several more days of foul weather in Beveridge Reef were enough to convince us that our departure from there should come sooner than we had planned. We’d definitely recommend a stop there to any other cruisers headed in that direction but unfortunately our own experience of the reef was limited because of the weather, temperatures, and the loss of our beloved dinghy. Patrick and Rebecca, s/v Brickhouse, were fantastic in carting us to and from the boat to the reef so Drew could do some spear fishing but I don’t even have a wet suit so I spent most of my time on the boat. It was time to go. We took with us the memory of our first whale sighting of this year, a freezer full of fresh grouper, and a lifelong lesson in that when going to other people’s boats, always tie off your own dinghy. One can never assume that your dinghy rope is the same as the next boater. An honest mistake but, nonetheless, a lesson learned the hard way.

Dosia did her best to cheer us up in absolutely kicking butt on the overnight sail from the reef to Niue. At anywhere from 6 1/2 to 8 knots, we completed the 130 miles in about 20 hours. Now I am not the kind of boater who has that intoxicating need for speed like most. If anything, when we start flying over waves at too great a speed I get a little anxious and uneasy. This trip, however, brought speeds we hadn’t seen in a while and of course they came at a time when we didn’t need them as we’d arrive in Niue before daylight. Drew and I quickly decided that we’d hook a mooring by early morning moonlight if we had to because there was no way we were giving up the chance to really, really feel the wind. So we rode it out, enjoyed every second of it, and were on a mooring ball in Niue by sunrise, enjoying our morning coffee.

Niue has been an incredible breath of fresh air thus far. The water is still a bit chilly, there is a definite nip in the air, but who thinks about those things when you’ve got 15 to 20 humpbacks swimming, literally, FEET from your boat!? July to October they take over the waters off the coast of this island to breed and we are lucky enough to be here during those months. The waters most certainly belong to them, we are their guests, and respect must be paid. They could sink Dosia in a heartbeat if we pissed them off somehow. Some boats throughout the harbor have been able to hear them talking/communicating at night through the walls of their vessels. Unfortunately (at least in this particular instance) Drew insulated the walls a little too well so we can only hear them when they rise to the surface to breathe. To be in their presence, this close, is one of the most incredible things I have ever seen. Each sighting is another reminder to me how grand and massive this ocean is that Drew and I are living our lives on right now.

If you are looking for sandy beaches and palm trees then don’t head for Niue. Jagged shorelines, caves, and deeper anchorages make up this island-the smallest island nation in the world. We spent most of yesterday with s/v Honeymoon and s/v Follow You, Follow Me in a rented van exploring all the eastern coast had to offer. Five of us donned our best hiking shoes, Drew…his flip flops due to blisters from spear fishing excursions on the reef, to tackle three different chasms, or caves. The land here is brimming with dated, aged coral that is probably hundreds upon hundreds of years old. Although in appearance it is rather sharp and uninviting, we wasted no time in tackling shorelines, climbing in and out of caves, getting chased by bone crushing waves, rope climbing down into a sloping cave to the freshwater pools below, and capping the day off with well earned beers at the local, and only, resort on the island, the Matavai Resort. Drew and I could barely keep or eyes open past 8 p.m. last night. Tonight, dinner aboard Follow You, Follow Me. As I write, Drew is preparing some of our fresh grouper to take as bite size appetizers, as most cruisers haven’t had any luck in catching fresh fish in the the Pacific waters this year. Pictures of the cave excursions and the whales will be up A.S.A.P.!

Happy Birthday to both Drew’s Dad and his Nanny who celebrated her 91st birthday on Monday : ) We love y’all!

—–Ahhh…Beveridge Reef, what an unkind animal you can be. We sit here on your sandy shelf and wait and wait for good weather to explore your outer reefs, inner lagoon, and your mysterious windward shipwreck. When finally a day comes, we join our neighbors for a day of spear fishing and collect your bounty as though it were our own. Grouper, Jack, Parrotfish…all relinquish themselves to the spear tip. Though we look carefully, you hide your lobsters and leave us with only molted shells. “Tis the Season” I guess, but the fishing is good. Blood gathers in the dinghy and the surrounding waters and you send your sharks to fend us off. Whitetips, no problem, but when your rally your Grey Reef sharks, we retreat and head home, taking with us pounds of fish for untold meals to come. We plan our first feast that evening aboard the good-ship Brick House, a Valiant 40 from Rhode Island. We gather and socialize while the wind outside rises, the anchor lines stretch. A shot of fine Italian Amaretto begins the meal. We sit. And then you knock us down.
——

It was two hours before Patrick climbed up into the cockpit to check on things. Our dinghy was gone. A miscommunication, a mistied cleat, it’s not really important. Patrick took off in their dinghy for the mile and a half trip across the lagoon to search the other side. Even with a full moon, a good light, a night vision scope, and two hours of searching…no luck. My Caribe dinghy and Nissan outboard, together one of the most expensive pieces of equipment on the boat, were gone. Either it hit the reef, flipped, and got smashed to bits or it cruised right out the pass and is halfway to southern Tonga. We thought about leaving immediately, in the darkness, to try and catch up to it, but what if it really was on the reef and this isn’t exactly a friendly place to come and go in the night. What if we passed it in the night? We looked at the situation again the next morning. A small windshift, a twelve hour headstart, a dead downwind sail, an approaching low pressure system…what were the actual chances of finding it? Patrick reexamined the reef taking into account the angle of the wind and current and surmised it most likely hit some breakers and flipped. An APB went out on all the nets for boats in the vicinity to keep an eye out. The government of Niue and the entire anchorage Alofi was notified since it could float in that direction if it did make it out of the lagoon. After a brief period of mourning, Marge and I could do nothing but pick our heads up and start searching for a replacement. Patrick and Rebecca have agreed to alter their plans as needed to help us find another one. They feel awful about it and though it’s frustrating as hell, it was an honest mistake and could happen to anyone. Right now, it sounds as though the Moorings base in Vava’u Tonga may be our best bet. I’m hoping Zen and Flashback who are only a week or two away from there can send out some feelers and make some connections. The last thing we want to do is spend weeks waiting anywhere for a shipment from the states. Thankfully a few boats have offered up loaners as well.

Other than that, we’re still here in Beveridge. There a small system passing over us today and tomorrow and we’re heading to Niue on Monday. We went spearfishing on the outside of the reef again yesterday. My feet are so blistered and raw from hours in my fins I duct-taped the balls of my feet and put on some socks. The sharks got a lot more curious. They’d swim right up to me near the surface, even if I was hanging on the side of the dinghy. A quick glancing blow with the spear gun sent them running. We finally gave in and let them have the reef. We weren’t doing so well anyways with only two groupers (one large and one small) for the day. Not that we didn’t try. Patrick and I spent hours in the water chasing groupers and parrots through the ravines and caverns of the reef. We dropped the carcass of a huge grouper to the bottom. The Grey Reef Sharks and huge snapper fought it out for the remains while we hid off to the side and watched. I wish one of those snapper would let me get close enough to shoot it. Another boat, Peter and Nikki on Bagheera arrived this morning and we all moved to the northwestern side of the lagoon in anticipation of a windshift. So far it’s the prettiest day we’ve had since arriving. In a half hour or so I’m putting my wetsuit on Margie and we’re heading out to snorkel the inside of the reef. It’s nice to be outside enjoying this place finally. Even though there’s a black cloud hanging over us from the loss of the dinghy, we’re doing our best to soak up the rays and go to sleep happy. I’m hopeful it’ll all work out in the end.

This one is for the cruisers out there.

I’m not leaving here till I get at least one calm, hot, sunny day! The wind hasn’t dropped below 20 knots in three days now. Normally that’s not a problem. It’s usually a good thing but with no land and a reef that submerges at high tide in front of us, I have finally found a challenge “old Bruce” (my oversized primary anchor) can’t live up to. The sand must be ultra-fine down there or something. This is the first time I’ve had a problem with my ground tackle dragging on Dosia. Right now, on my third set in three days, I have 150′ of chain out in less than 10′ of water (all sand, no coral). I’ve tried less, I’ve tried more…nothing seems to stick. We don’t suddenly start dragging and fly across the lagoon with the wind and current, anchor trailing out behind us. It’s a gradual thing. After twelve hours or so rocking and howling in the wind, we may move .04 miles backward. Not much I know but I don’t like the idea of moving AT ALL. I get a good set on the anchor every time. I can see it hit the bottom clear as day even at night, which happens to be when we’ve had to reset both times. Speaking of which, Margie and I have evolved in masters of the anchoring process. Marge takes her place at the helm and I’m on the bow. There’s no speaking or yelling back and forth, no radios, and no eye contact. She watches for my hand signals and steers the boat exactly as I need it. At night, I put on a headlamp and light up my hands so she can see my signals. It’s a work of art. Resetting in these conditions with 30 knots of wind in darkness but no other boats or obstacles in the way has been great practice for us. And it’s also reassured me that I did a good job setting up the anchoring system with massive backing plates, offset rollers, an oversized windlass, and substantial cleats for the snubbers. You can see good photos of the process on the “About the Boat” page. Everything is performing exactly as I intended it except, right now, my dependable Bruce anchor is not doing its job. Of course, it’s not the anchor’s fault. It’s mine. I’m asking it to perform in conditions where it does not excel. That’s why today, I’ll be pulling the CQR off my secondary rode and replacing it with my big Fortress anchor. The danforth design should dig in a lot better in this soft sand. It’s something I should have done two days ago. I don’t like the fact I’ll be using it with only 50′ of chain but there isn’t a coral head in sight on this sand bank as big as a football field so no worries about it chafing through. We’ll probably move over closer to Brickhouse, the only other boat out here so we can make new friends and talk to someone other than each other!

The weather has somewhat cleared. At least the rain is no longer constant and I can usually find some area of the sky that is blue. I could probably go for some snorkeling today if I want to battle the wind and waves up to the reef in the dinghy. The forecast shows no break in the wind till Friday when a Low coming from the west sucks up all the breeze. Then, of course, that Low moves over top of us on Saturday, sending the wind counterclockwise meaning we’ll probably have to move to the other side of the lagoon. I’m beginning to wish we took the northern route and stayed away from all these Low pressure systems. No need to rush off to Niue before this Low. If it gains in strength it would make the anchorage there 10x worse than we’d ever get in here. Might as well wait it out and see. We have movies, games, tons of books, wine, and bacon. That’s all I need to survive. Plus, I haven’t touched my wallet in 7 days!

I finally managed to clean up my pile of tissues that had accumulated from the two hours of torture I inflicted on Drew that was “the Notebook”. Not really, he took it like a champ. Wish I could say that we’ve been diving in the wreck or snorkeling amongst massive schools of fish but some higher power is set on keeping us inside Dosia for days on end. At night, once the sun has set and hopefully the moon is providing an illuminated view of the reef we hear forcefully pounding out our windows, I find myself quickly donning a pair of long pajama pants, a long sleeve shirt, and wrapping myself from head to toe in a blanket. It’s cold. Okay, okay…my “idea” of cold has changed somewhat since having lived in French Poly for three months. For here, it’s cold. So to be honest, should a day finally produce some sunshine around here I’m not so sure the water temps are going to be anything I’m prepared to handle. I’ve actually been perfectly content holed up with Drew for a few days. Days which we have filled with movies, eating, books, drinking wine, more movies, and yesterday we taught ourselves to play rummy. While he says it’s about “expanding our horizons and learning something,” I really think Drew was just tired of having his keester handed to him time and time again by yours truly in Uno! He successfully kicked my ass yesterday in rummy and today’s attempts to get even will no doubt be intense.

So in living on Dosia my “idea” of things changes on an almost daily basis. I’ve learned to live without some things and some things I’ve just had to learn to live with in a different way of that which I’ve always been accustomed, all the while realizing that I’m lucky to have any of this AT ALL. For instance, the head, a.k.a. the toilet. On Dosia, you do your business, close the lid, and to your left is a handle. You proceed to pump the handle up and down, up and down, up and down about fifteen to twenty times. In doing so, the vacuum formed in pumping is sucking water into the bowl, cleaning, and taking your business out as it goes. Too much? Nah. You can handle it. The other day Drew pulls out a spare toilet bowl lid. He says to me that while many might laugh at him for carrying a spare, should our existing one crack or anything happen to it, we wouldn’t be able to flush the toilet and we’d be up shit creek. Literally!

Second example, the water. Dosia has two tanks that hold 90 gallons of water. That water gets into those tanks in one of three ways. It either 1)comes through the hose when we are docked, 2)we jerry jug it, or 3)we make it. Once the tanks are full our mission is to make that water last as long as possible. We never know if there will be a hose at the next dock we pull into or if the water on that particular island is even considered drinkable because sometimes it is unsanitary. Back home, I was not one of those people who was conscious of how much water I used in the shower, shaving, washing dishes, cooking…how quickly that has changed! When showering in our 2ft x2 1/2ft shower, you get in and turn on the water just long enough to get wet. In running the engine we can flip on the water heater and have a hot shower so from time to time we indulge as a treat to ourselves. After drenching myself I shampoo, shave, clean, and rinse before I turn the water on again and then it’s left on just long enough to wash away the suds. Showers over. It’s a quick process and depending on temps outside it can either be really refreshing or really chilly!

If it sounds at all like I’m feeling sorry for myself or trying to gain sympathy points this is not the case at all. Believe me, we have it G-O-O-D out here and I am by no means roughing it. Some people we’ve come across don’t have a shower. Some people’s shower is over their toilet. Some people don’t have a toilet but a bucket instead. A BUCKET!!! Some people don’t have a fridge. A lot of people don’t have freezers which for them means that 95% of the time their meals consists of something from a can. Some people don’t have technological communications. Some people don’t have water makers so if they leave land with 90 gallons then they have to make that last until whenever they pull up to a water supply again. Our water maker, god bless it, makes one and a half gallons an hour. But you know what, that’s one and a half gallons more than we’d have if it wasn’t a luxury of ours.

I think sometimes I write about these things not only for you but almost more for myself. As a reminder to me that anytime I get down or wish that something was “better” that there is always someone out there with less. Always. And who am I kidding, look at my tradeoff. There’s no 20 minute, hot shower in the world I’d swap for another chance to witness a whale putting on a show 50 yards from the boat. Nah, I’d definitely have to say I’m getting the better end of the deal…

We arrived at Beveridge Reef yesterday just after noon. The last day of sailing was crap compared to the first three days. It started raining in the middle of the night Friday and so far, it hasn’t stopped but for one hour long window the sun just happened to show itself and guide us safely across the lagoon. The fact there’s no land here, just reef, is still crazy as hell to me even though we’re anchored right here in the middle of it. It’s much larger here than I thought it would be. The lagoon is probably 2 miles across and double that north to south. It’s shaped somewhat like a kidney bean. There is a small wreck on the eastern side and we’re anchored south of it on a sand shelf in about nine feet of water. One other sailboat is in here about a half mile to our north. The reef is dead ahead about 200 yards so if the rain wasn’t stopping us from opening the hatches and windows we’d be listening to the soft, relaxing beat of waves crashing. As it happens, the weather is not so relaxing.

Last night it started blowing hard. The perfect forecast I’d been staring at for the last week suddenly had a change of heart and formed a low just southeast of us. It looks like we’d be far enough west to avoid it but obviously we’ve not much luck when it comes to weather avoidance as of late. I feel really sorry for the folks who left Raro just behind us. Especially Chuck and Joan on Tender Spirit who departed on Thursday and are probably getting the crap kicked out of them. The wind is blowing in the 30-35 knot range, the rain is shootin’ sideways at us, and enough of the ocean swell is coming in over the reef to make it bouncy. I put an extra snubber on the anchor line early this morning in case we chafe through the first one. The great thing here is that if the anchor did break loose, we’d have plenty of time to unknowingly drift before we hit anything! It’s hard to say whether we’re better off in here since if we’d kept going we would certainly be far enough west to avoid this thing but it is nice to be anchored and sitting somewhat still. Of course, it’d be a lot nicer if I was snorkeling and diving in this crystal clear water instead hunkered down in our little home drinkin coffee listening to the wind howl through the rigging! After the sneak preview of what the water in this place looks like yesterday during our little sunshine window, there’s no way I’m leaving here till we get a chance to peek under the surface and see some wildlife.

Speaking of wildlife, yesterday we finally saw one of my all time fantasies come to fruition. We were barely a half mile off the south side of the reef motoring around to the lagoon entrance. The rain had let up for a couple of minutes and was just a sprinkle. I was staring over at the breakers on the reef when directly in the middle of my field of vision a massive Humpback whale breached almost completely out of the water! It was so far above the surface I could see on its body where the skinny part of the tail started to widen into the flukes. It did a kind of a twist in mid air and land with a massive splash. I screamed “WHALE” and Marge came flying off the settee and up to the cockpit. There was at least one more humpback, maybe two, because as soon as she stepped foot on deck the second whale breached the surface and she got a great look at it. They danced on the surface for another minute or two before they calmed down and swam around shooting water out of their blowholes. We slowed down and waited, camera in hand, for another show but they finally dawdled off altogether and we lost sight. After talking to each other in Dory’s whale voice (“Finding Nemo” fans will know what I mean) for three days hopeful that we’d see one, Marge and I couldn’t believe our luck. It certainly goes down as one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen. The fact we’re in the middle of the ocean on our own boat next to a remote reef it took over three days to get to made it all the better. There’s no better way to appreciate such an experience and it will certainly go down in my long list of unbelievable things this trip has allowed me to see and do.

Alright, looks like it’s time to wake Marge up and start movie day here on Dosia. It doesn’t look like this weather is calming down any time soon and I promised we’d watch “The Notebook” on the next rainy day.

All is well out here on the open seas. It’s Friday afternoon and we’re about 115 miles from Beveridge Reef sailing along at 6.5 knots under full mizzen and slightly furled genoa. We’ll have to slow down overnight tonight so we arrive in good daylight tomorrow. Although I have good coordinates on this place from several sources, I can’t bring myself to get within 5 miles of it at night!
We’ve been making steady progress all three days. We haven’t seen another boat since the first night out of Raro. The weather has been absolutely perfect. It seems like it’s getting slightly warmer again as we head a little back to the north but we still miss our old friend the Equator. At night it dips down in the 60′s. We’ll okay, 68, but that seems really cold out here on the ocean!

I had to run the engine a few hours to charge the batteries night before last but other than that we’ve been sailing along in silence. I took the chance in Raro to completelly fill up on fuel. I didn’t know when I’d see a price as good as $1.55 a liter (around $6/gallon) so I dropped by the harbormaster’s office to order up the fuel truck for delivery. They came down to the quai and I’m sure they were happy I called. After I took on 150 liters, six other boats announced they’d like fuel and finished out most of the 1000 liters they brought in the truck! As of now I’ve got a full 50 gallon tank, 30 extra gallons on decks, and I barely burn a half gallon per hour. So we’re good on fuel for quite a while now especially since after this passage the jumps are mostly 1-3 days through Fiji and we have plenty of time to wait for weather windows.

Assuming all goes well, I’ll write again tomorrow night from anchor at Beveridge. I gotta go slow her down again. We’re up over seven knots and it’s barely blowing 20!

We pulled out of Raro last night just before dark. I left feeling almost sorry for the place. Such a great island with such a horrible harbor. I guess it’s not always so bad but we inadvertently timed our stay with two passing troughs of low pressure that brought northerly winds, sunless skies, and a chill in the air. When we first arrived, the idea of not having to use the outboard motor to get into the dock seemed a relief. When the second northerly blew in this weekend it became a struggle to get the dinghy back and forth the few yards from quai to boat without getting your head ripped off by a neighbor’s lines. People were dropping anchors on top of other people’s anchors, words were getting exchanged, cleats and stanchions were popping off boats, Dosia was covered in dirt blowing off the quai; my little voice said “let’s get the hell out of here.” So we did. And now we’re over 100 miles out and sailing along blissfully under a full mizzen, double-reefed main, and full genoa. As soon as the wind backs around another 15 degrees, up goes the spinnaker and we will hopefully coast right into Beveridge Reef. We had homemade beef stew for dinner last night, homemade lasagne coming tonight, and the meals are planned for the rest of the trip assuming we don’t catch any fish…whenever I get around to throwing out some lines. This is sailing at its best and we’re having a ball. It’s blowing 10 knots on our beam, a few gusts up to 15 and we’re doing anywhere from 4.5-6 knots in easy-riding seas. Even Marge, the anti-passagemaker can’t complain in these conditions. If all goes to plan, we’ll arrive at Beveridge Saturday morning or midday for a mid ocean rest stop. One or two night’s stay depending on weather. No land, just reef and a lagoon. One of those weird mid-ocean anomalies. As always, I’m hoping to get Marge in the water with some sharks! Check it out on google. Peace.
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