At anchor, Kapa Isl, Tonga
6,956 miles and 40 days and 4 hours from leaving Panama, we put the hook down in Port Maurelle, Tonga. In true Kailani form, we arrived at night, in a raging thunder and lightning storm, with lightning strikes getting as close as one mile from us. We were able to time it so that we put the hook down just as nautical dawn loomed. For now we are flying our Q (quarantine) flag until we are able to effect some repairs in order to make the final 5 miles north into Neiafu on Monday to be processed by customs and immigration.
This has been one of the most difficult passages in our experience for a variety of reasons, not the least of it being the duration. To say we are exhausted is an understatement. When we set out with this plan to get Kailani back to the South Pacific in order to finally sell her, we thought – “what the heck, let’s do one more ocean passage just the two of us, an easy southeast trade wind sail through some of the most classically easy and beautiful sailing oceans. A perfect symmetrical ending to our ocean crossing days, since crossing the Pacific in 2004 started it all.” Hubris. Of all the sailing we have done, we should have known that the ocean always humbles you, and if you live to tell the tales at the bar, the Gods have looked favorably upon you and forgiven such hubris.
Day 1: The Python. Already covered in the Snakes on a Boat! post, but suffice it to say he deserves a second mention, and has now been nicknamed “Jonah”. Despite removing him from the boat, we still felt like blaming him throughout the passage for all bad luck that ensued.
Day 2: Lightning storm and 30 kt winds from the southwest and heavy adverse seas make us heave to for 12 hours. Jonah’s doing.
Day 3: Autopilot / Engine Hose Failures. The autopilot loses its pin; repair effected, but essentially requires retightening up to three times a day for the remainder of passage (we cannot do a full diagnosis of the problem until at anchor). Secondly, the main engine turbo coolant hose blows, and we heave to for another eight hours for Harley to jury-rig a “temporary” repair that holds for an amazing 52 hours before blowing again on day 32. This time Harley tried another repair using a less than great hose (I think he said it was a shower hose?!), and it failed right away. On Day 34 he bypassed all of the old hose, disconnecting it at the two ends and using a massively oversized hose, sistering in fittings to attach to the engine. We never dared try it, holding it in reserve for emergencies only. We turned it on this morning to motor the final 4 hours into Tonga and it held!
Day 10: We make it to the trade winds! Yay! Although, these did not fill in consistently or with any real strength for many days, leaving us with mostly sailing our Code Zero sail. By Day 31 we slammed right into a major trough which caused us to heave to for another 24 hours before sailing off in light winds from the west and south. We basically never saw southeast trade winds again on this passage except for a few hours on Days 33-36.
Day 16: Boom Vang Plate Screw Lose. On our deck walk, we found a screw from the plate that attaches the hydraulic boom vang to the mast (a vang is needed to keep the boom from rising when sailing off the wind, and also to hold boom up when the main sail is down). We replaced the screw, inspected and tightened the remaining screws, and continued to check daily.
Day 31: Propane wiring fault. Essentially, this indicates a short, a loose/disconnected wire, or faulty solenoid, making it impossible to turn the propane valve on in the galley. We could not diagnose and fix this until at anchor due to the propane locker’s location in the aft lazarette, with the result being our inability to cook for the remainder of passage. Anyone who read our Of Monkey Fists and Cleat Hitches post knows we could not possibly starve. But, no more bread, rice, beans or pasta, among other essentials we rely on for our meals. We do have a microwave however, and made dinners of baked potatoes, quesadillas, ramen, and bacon and egg tortilla roll-ups. Lunches were cold meals, and we ate mostly tunafish, cous-cous and fruit. I almost dared to try a PBJ tortilla roll-up.
Day 32: Code Zero Halyard Chafed. At about 1640 in the afternoon we finally decided to take down the furled Code Zero (for the second time) thinking based on the weather forecasts it would not be needed any further. There was oncoming bad weather off to port, and we wanted to get it all stowed prior to sunset and the onset of this storm. While lowering it, it became apparent that the halyard had chafed about 6 feet down inside the mast, chafing through the cover, but not the dyneema core. So now we were in a position with the sail partially lowered, the halyard stuck because the cover was bunching up down at the base of the mast, and therefore unable to feed through the clutch. Working together over the next hour we eased the cover back and inched the halyard through the clutch until we got the sail down to almost deck level. The Code Zero sail is a very heavy sail, and when furled up and coming down it is like a massive 80 foot heavy sausage swinging wildly as the boat rolls. Typically to douse it the key is the get it down as quickly as possible to limit the possibility of it or someone holding it going overboard, or alternatively someone getting hit by the very heavy head shackle at the top of the sail.
So as we inched it down bit by bit, we would take breaks and tie off some of the sail forward to limit the amount flying about. We finally got it down far enough that I could sit on the deck, leaning against one of the dorade granny posts for security, and with my arms outstretched as far up as possible, could hold the head shackle of the sail. Then Harley undid the halyard shackle, but just at the moment the boat lurched and he lost hold of the halyard. Now the halyard, with the roll of the boat, started to wrap itself around everything in its swing radius: shrouds, other halyards, the mast. We were screwed. We had to get the halyard either up all the way or down all the way, otherwise we could not use either of our headsails. Harley climbed the mast with the boat hook to try to catch it and redirect where it wrapped, and eventually we got it twisted up just between two spare halyards that were attached at the deck.
So we came up with the plan for me to essentially lie down on the deck and pull those two halyards down, keeping them tensioned enough to keep the Code Zero halyard entangled within them, and in this way lower it far enough to reach it. This involved Harley easing the two other halyards carefully (so they too would not get tangled up) and me pulling down to keep tension so we would not inadvertently lose the Code Zero halyard again. We got it far enough down that Harley could climb up the mast again and reach the halyard. We untangled it, but then with the whole core bunching problem could barely hoist it to the top of the mast. We cut the halyard in the end, untangled and coiled all the remaining halyards. Then we stuffed the Code Zero in one big massive mess into its bag and dropped it into the garage hold. The entire effort was completed by 1900, just as the last bit of sunlight illuminated the skies to the west. As I lay on the deck holding those two halyards during this complicated maneuver, looking off to port at the oncoming raging storm, the bottom clouds in the sky were illuminated reds and pinks by the sun setting. As often seems to happen in the times I need it most out here sailing the seas, I took it as an omen telling me that all would be okay, since the old adage is :“red sky at night, sailor’s delight”.
Day 36: Catastrophic loss of vang plate. As screws come out and sheer off, the vang plate torques its way off the mast. We manage to remove the hydraulic vang and plate completely, then remove the plate which was sheered off of the mast and bent in the process. Harley uses a hammer (a la “Thor”) to bend the plate back enough to remount and attach with larger bolts, found after rummaging through Kailani’s extensive spare bolt collection. We remount the vang to boom and mast and run with it. Needless to say, our riggers in Annapolis are on our call list since this and the chafed halyard are related to their work.
Day 37: Rogue Wave. We were on port tack at about midnight on my watch sailing in squally weather and confused seas, some following seas of 14 feet and winds up to 27 knots. I was adjusting the main sheet when I heard the very distinct sound of what can only be described as an oncoming freight train. But I knew what it was – a rogue wave. I immediately dove as far forward and low into the cockpit as I could, the wave hit and broke from the port side, putting us on our “ear” with the boom in the water, the cockpit flooded. Besides resembling a drowned rat, I was otherwise generally unscathed. (Miraculously, somehow Harley did not even wake, a testament to the exhaustion levels we were running with). Once we righted, my first concern was our vang plate, given the strain put on it with the boom being dragged in the water. All checked out okay. It was not until dawn that we discovered that the rogue wave had actually caused the wind generator pole to dismount vertically off its mount, loosening two of the bars that stabilize it vertically. It severed its wiring and knocked out our Iridium Go antenna. For an hour Harley and I worked to secure the dismounted pole as best we could by tying lots of securing lines, and assemble what was left of the Go antenna. Needless to say, another repair that can only be effected once we are at anchor.
Day 38: Accidental Gybe. Twice. The seas at this point were very confused, with the wind shifting northward and the seas still coming from the south, as well as the ongoing southerly swell of 14 feet. We were sailing pretty far off the wind at about 130-140, but the roll from the seas combined with ill-timed giant swells and resultant lee lurches took us too deep, causing the gybes. Thankfully we have our main prevented, but at this point we decided to douse the main sail completely and not risk further damage and/or injury to us due to the fragile state of the boom vang plate. This limited our sail plan to jib or staysail only for the remainder of passage.
In Summary: Overall we hove to a record eleven times, seven due to adverse weather, and four to work on major gear failures / repairs. We flew every sail configuration possible, and saw wind from every quarter, but remarkably very rarely from the southeast. For the last four days we have been sailing in north and northeast winds. We changed time zones six times, and crossed the date line, so the date here is Jun 15th, UTC +13. Finally, we are so pleased to announce that now that we have made it to Tonga, the forecast is for a solid southeast trades of 10-15kts to fill in once this rain storm passes.
So those are the highlights of major issues, and of course there were some “minor” issues some may find humorous. There is my bunk, and its perpetual state of getting doused. The first time happened when the hatch above the foot of my bunk was left cracked, we took a huge wave, and a TON of salt water came down below. Of course, it was the middle of the night and I was sleeping, heavily medicated for seasickness so absolutely no help to Harley who had to remove the bedding, soak up all the salt water then douse it all with fresh water, put down towels, and remake the bed. A week or so later, I was in my bunk in the morning, having just woken up at 0700. Since the cabinet that holds the eggs is above my mid-bunk, I often just open that cabinet while still in the bunk when I first rise and rotate the eggs, a daily chore. So yup, you guessed it. While the cabinet was open, we took a lee lurch, and out came the eggs onto me. This would have been fine except for the fact that some broke, and multiple of those were rotten. It was definitely long past the date we have ever gone with eggs unrefrigerated (prior max had been five weeks). Well, disgusting is the only thing I can say about that. Another bedding changeover (and shower!) ensued. Finally, the locker at the head of my bunk holds the liquor bottles. In rough seas later in the same afternoon of the egg incident, the locker opened on its own, all the bottles came out with some turning upside down and leaking onto my pillows. By this point I was pretty much fine with a touch of gin and rum aromas to lull me to sleep going forward. It’s all relative, after all.
We arrive fairly bruised and battered. Poor Harley was way-laid by his hiatal hernia for over 12 hours (translation, stuck in his bunk hugging the bucket, emptying it overboard as needed). He also suffered a minor wrist sprain doing one of our many deck maneuvers. I was thrown across the cockpit in a lee lurch and landed into a winch with my head, and have quite a goose egg on my forehead. I also made a careless move that ended up with my finger getting caught in one of our primary winches (that is to say, the largest, heaviest loaded winches), which thankfully only resulted in a bad sprain / bruising (more typically it ends in a severed finger). Other than that, we both have minor scrapes and bruises and aches all over, and some tropical relaxation will be a welcome relief. That, some cooked meals, cold libations and long sleeps are sure to heal us up!
That’s it for now, we are thankful to have arrived safely. Our next update with be full of all the news of us sitting under umbrellas and palm trees, with cabana boys serving us pina coladas (aka everyone’s imagination of what our life is like out here 🙂 ).
18 42.02S 174 01.81W
At anchor, Port Maurelle, Kapa Island
The Kingdom of Tonga
Bravo!!! Enjoy those burgers and beers!!!😁
What an adventure!! You both are such eloquent writers, so descriptive we readers can all picture it as if we were there. Love catching up on y’all’s unexpected yet humorous experiences on the open water! 🌊 ⚓️🩵 Enjoy your relaxation in Tonga
O. M. G. Looking at PredictWind and our few text exchanges didn’t come close to telling the story! You two are amazing. I made the mistake of putting my dinner on the grill and then sitting down to read this. I got so engrossed in your story that I forgot about my burger on the grill and, needless to say, it didn’t make it. I blame Jonah! Glad you’re both safe and that Kailani’s issues. Are just flesh wounds. Congrats on an amazing passage!
Living the dream! Glad you’ve arrived safely. Enjoy your sleep 💤 😀
Wow!! I think I need a burger after reading this 😉. An epic to beat all epics in the true Kailani fashion! I think you guys fully embody what Lin and Larry Pardey meant when they said “if you can’t repair it maybe it shouldn’t be onboard”. Enjoy the peace of knowing you are there now, …and those burgers when you get to Neiafu. Looking forward to speaking when you can.
So glad you are there safely and have a serious book in the making
We miss you and look forward to seeing you again soon
With much love
Vic and Helen
Agree with everything above. Congratulations and enjoy the pleasures that await.
Well done! A quite amazing “bookend” indeed.
Great job , on this sailing adventure.