Position: 19 degrees, 00 minutes south; 178 degrees, 36 minutes west
Sunrise. Waiting offshore for the sun to come up so we can see the reef to get through the pass.
Approaching Fulanga at daybreak.
It’s 0400 and we are about 4 miles north of Fulunga lying ahull in the early morning waiting until the conditions for going through the reef are safe-which will be about 1000. What’s safe? Good visibility-meaning the light to your back and high enough to see the reef under water, and the right tide. Today, we’re looking at high, slack water so the pass won’t resemble a water slide with water rushing out of the atioll.
We’re sitting here beam on to about 5 knots of wind, flat water essentially going sideways at about 0.5 knots. Waiting. The engine’s running to help the watermaker and I’m trying to fill the tank before we get inside and anchored.
It’s a beautiful night. Stars are surrounding us, very low clouds scud across the low horizon and a half waning moon is directly above. And it’s warm. I have short sleeve shirt, shorts and flip flops on as I write this sitting in the cockpit with the cup of coffee Ann so kindly made for me before she hit the sack. She brought us down through the pass that approaches the island with numerous reefs and atolls along the way on either side of us and deserves some rest.
This spot where we’re sitting right now is one of the most secluded in the world. It’s not easy to get to-from the south it’s 1100 miles to New Zealand and from the north it’s 200 miles out of the main Fiji islands, but usually straight into the trade winds. Normally this is a punishing ride and few elect to make it, but we have been fortunate to have this weather window where the trades stopped for a couple days and decided to take advantage to visit this beautiful and secluded spot. Once the trades start to blow again in another day or two, they will in essence “lock the door” on getting down here. We of course now have the advantage of using them to make our way through these islands (called the Lau Group) back northward to the main Fiji archipelago over the next 4-6 weeks (or until supplies run out)
A number of our cruising friends also saw the window and will be here as well. We’re excited to catch up with them. When we left on this trip I thought that the best part about it would be sliding in to a deserted island and playing Robinson Crusoe. We have had some of that, but to my surprise the best part of cruising is really having the chance to anchor with friends we’ve met along the way (and new ones yet to be met) and swim, dive, and get together. It’s quite a community out here and we’re lucky that a number of folks we have been criss-crossing the Pacific with for the past year will be here. The boat count via shortwave radio as of tonight is: Blue Rodeo, Gypsy Heart, Evergreen, Slipaway, Eagle’s Wings- who should all be here by this afternoon and in the coming days we also might see SuperTed, and Astarte. Fortunately Fulunga is big enough that everyone will be able to pick their own little island motu inside the atoll if they so choose.
Part Two: It’s 2100. We made it in through the reef, went into the village and did the Sevusevu and had cocktails on Slip Away with Evergreen. We’re too tired to detail the day, so will leave it until tomorrow to provide more detail. Suffice to say, this is truly a lovely and magical place.
From Ann- Before we get into telling the story of how we lost our virginity (Sevu sevu virginity, `watch tomorrow’s blog) I need to tell you about our night at sea. We have been very fortunate to have the waning moon leading us south. This is the moon that has been trumpeted as the biggest moon the earth has seen. And I believe it! I was on watch at 11 pm last night when the moon started to rise. It was initially obscured by low clouds and was difficult to identify. Okay, I admit it. I thought there was a large ship in the distance that I had not paid attention to. But thankfully it was just a spectacular moon that lit up the low lying clouds from the back side. Odd shapes always look like boats to me. Luckily I figured it out before I woke Bob up! And this moon lived up to its reputation. The way it rose out from behind the clouds resembled a volcano errupting. The color was a vivid orange and the clouds did a lot to increase the drama. It was stunning. No camera could capture this surreal scene – I tried. I really wanted to wake Bob up to see it but passed on the urge. Good thing because I woke him up an hour later. The seas were incredibly flat. So flat that the stars were reflected in the smooth surface, as well as the quickly rising moon. The water resembled black salad oil – smooth as silk and fluid. It was so pretty. As I took my eyes off of the moonrise to check the other horizons I noted a long dark “something ” off of the starboard side of the boat. I even pulled out our super duper flash light to see if I could get a better look at what this was. The shape seemed to be getting closer. (Side note-as I lit up the sea with the flash light the tiny phosphorescent sea life floating there absorbed the light and reflected it back. So cool.) I ran down to the radar/chart plotter several times to help identify the object. Was it a low ship, land or a sleeping whale? My imagination was running wild. But I could see the darkness getting closer. When I checked the chart plotter we were right on course. It was getting a little eerie. Knowing that we were sailing through a strait with islands all around I was concerned that some uncharted land was about to halt our progress. I had had enough! So I woke Bob up. In some respects I think I made up the dark mass just so I could share the spectacular evening with Bob. And he was appropriately in awe of the glorious evening. And equally baffled by the shape off the starboard side. After watching it for another half hour we determined it was a charted island that we were passing and that it was somewhat of an illusion in the dark. Phew! Thank goodness Bob appreciates my wake up calls, rather than having a distress call because I was afraid to wake him. And he got to marvel at the oily sea reflecting the moon and stars. No ripples, just oily dark rolling by with fans of phosphorescence sprouting from our bow wake. I love evenings like this!
