We now have a little wind, have chosen to go toward seldom visited Raroia atoll and are beating. At first the wind was 2 knots, very light and we pick up a couple of tenths of a knot in boatspeed from the sails. We need to get there by early afternoon tomorrow to time the tidal current going out the pass and give us enough time and good visibility to avoid the coral heads and islets inside the lagoon as we seek a protected anchorage on the other side of the atoll. That means that we need to average 6 knots over the ground for the next day and a half. If only the destination been chosen and calculations been done a day sooner, when we were puttering along at three or four knots, we would not have to "push" the boat hard now. The required speed is easy going down wind. Going upwind like we are, it is not easy! If we get there late, it means puttering around outside for 20 hours waiting for a chance the next day or sailing another day toward another atoll farther away. By the time I go to bed, the wind is up to 10 knots, and the engine is assisting at a fast idle. Things are looking OK. But we have used up 40% of our fuel and it may be quite a while before we find any more. If we can find any before we get to Rangaroa, it will be expensive and also not be duty free.
Lynne wakes me up a few hours later. We now are beating into 22 knots of wind and associated waves, the boat is way overpowered and healing 30 degrees. The first thing to do is to roll up half of the headsail. That is easy. The next thing needed is to put at least one reef in the mainsail. However, under the conditions of spray flying across the deck, nighttime, and the bow of the boat bucking up and down, I decide to wait on that, let the autopilot deal with the sail plan unbalance and overpowered boat and try to get some more sleep. Nevertheless, I have to get up frequently and retrim the sails or adjust our course as the conditions change slightly. When you are beating, the "groove" is pretty narrow. Had I chosen to use the Monitor wind vane to steer, it might have done a better job of tracking the wind shifts, but sleep deprived zombies do not think very clearly.
By dawn, we can see the motus (islands on the atoll) of Takume, a sister atoll to Raroia. We are not going there because the pass into the lagoon is only large enough for small boats. One of the reasons that we have chosen Raroia is because the pass is on the northwest side and the wind is coming from the southeast. When we get in the lee of the atoll near the pass, the waves die down substantially, I put two reefs in the mainsail, roll up the rest of the headsail and we prepare to approach the past. There are two tall poles, called range markers, located inside the lagoon. When one is lined up in front of the other, you are in the preferred part of the channel and on the proper course to go through the pass. But the current going out of the pass is substantial and pushes the boat sideways. My steering corrections to get back on the "line" are so substantial that Lynne is afraid that I am going to hit the reef on one side of the pass, then the other, again and again. But our timing has been good. There are no standing waves inside the pass and our boat speed motoring in is substantially faster than the current. Hurray! Sometimes the current is faster than your maximun boat speed and you have to dangerously hug the side of the pass to seek lower current, wait for a better time, or go somewhere else.
Once inside, the current is minimal. We decide to go to the opposite side of the atoll to anchor up behind the palm trees on one of the motus. It takes an hour and a half of zig-zaging between the large coral islets and strings of pearl oyster bouys to cross the lagoon. Lynne steers while I stand up on the ratlines giving directions, hanging on as the boat bucks and sways a bit. When we get there, my hands and feet have paid the price. We anchor up just offshore behind a motu densely covered with cocunut palm trees, sheltered in flat water and only 10 knots of wind. It is beautiful! We are both so excited and grateful to be here. We "made" it. We make a great pair. I "swim" the anchor, tell Lynne to back down on it some more while I watch it finish digging in the coral sand and then make note of the "stuff" growing on the submerged part of the boat. We can go to bed early! Together! Sleep soundly! Life is good!
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