Mishap at Fakarava

16º 26.778s 145º 21.931w

Tue Jun 18 2019

Isabel and I were awakened around 0500 by a distress call on the VHF. As we are living on the hook in an anchorage full of boats, we believe it’s important to leave the radio on and monitor for distress calls. We have been in anchorages where a boat begins to drag anchor and becomes a severe hazard to the surrounding boats, and we have actually been struck by a boat dragging anchor back in Mexico. Wasn’t fun, had some damage, but could have been worse. Lots of folks turn off their VHF radios when they shut down their electronics after anchoring; we just have a different attitude about things.

The weather the past couple of days has been anything from absolutely beautiful to pissing with rain and blowing 30 knots – what’s known as a maramu here, or reinforced trade winds. Today has been especially icky, with one squall after the next blasting through the anchorage. A good day to bake cookies or banana bread (Isabel’s choice), work on some indoor boat project (Mark’s choice) and sneak in a walk on shore between showers, which turned into a “during shower” event. Important to wear clothes that dry quickly in this environment.

Our pals on SV Hugo left out today on their way to Tahiti to collect a guest, and they reported big seas and blustery winds outside the South pass. They also provided some preliminary details regarding the distress call we heard this morning. For now consider this hearsay.

Today was supposed to be my first day of kite surfing lessons, and Isabel was going to ride in the chase boat and see if she would be interested in giving it a go. I pulled the plug about a half hour before the lesson was to begin, as it was blowing 30 knots and raining sideways for the fourth or fifth time today. Seemed like the instructor was actually a bit relieved, and we rescheduled for Wednesday 0700. Isabel and I will begin our free diving lessons tomorrow morning, so at least we’ve got that going for us.

We had to get off the boat this afternoon, so we dinghied over to SV Bruno’s Girl, a lovely Halberg Rassy 40 flying an English Ocean Cruising Club burgee, and said hello to Phillip who invited us aboard for tea and biscuits. Gotta love English folks and their sense of hospitality. Phillip’s better half Claudia was out for a swim, but she returned eventually to report news of a large shark in the anchorage, however the visibility as she swam was poor enough that she didn’t see it. We compared notes on various other cruisers we had befriended as well as our plans for the next few months, and during our visit the worst squall of all moved through the area, complete with lightening. Glad I canceled that lesson!

Sailing or even steaming inside these atolls is hazardous at best, and can be downright dangerous if you’re not paying very close attention, the visibility is poor, or the water is extremely churned up. We had a close call with a bommie while moving from Pakokota to here and we’ve spoken with numerous other boats who’ve had similar experiences. Inside the atolls there are generally some charted channels, but much of the waters is either poorly charted or unsurveyed. Sailors beware; even in 20 or 30 meters of water a pinnacle shaped bommie can magically appear. If we hit it, we’ll sink the boat, guaranteed. Timing arrivals and departures through the passes is extremely important due to the potentially strong tidal currents. If the weather has been like we’ve had it the past few days, there may never be an incoming tide; only a constant outflow from the atoll lagoon, and the visibility is poor due to all the coral sands being so churned up.

Boats are lost in the Tuamotus every year it seems; we’re aware of two mishaps just in the past few weeks. The first we heard of was a boat that was underway using a wind vane driven autopilot, a system many monohulls utilize. Word has it there was a wind shift, the course of the boat changed, and the person on watch was either asleep or simply didn’t appreciate the situation. Next thing you know the boat’s on the reef and the crew has to be rescued. The Tuamotus are entire unforgiving.

Today was a bit different, but we only have some preliminary details. Three souls on board, lurking outside the South pass of Fakarava waiting for good light and the proper tidal flow to enter the pass and proceed to a safe anchorage. Sails down in preparation for an entry through a narrow inlet, motoring gently around standing off, and suddenly they wrap up a large chunk of stray rope, likely part of a lost drag net. It’s amazing how much debris there floating around the ocean from industrial scale fishing operations; we’re talking heavy ropes and nets that will easily disable a pleasure yacht or utility boat. Engine propulsion disabled, they’re rapidly getting the sails up to use the wind to move away from danger close, it’s too late and on the reef they go. We understand they deployed and boarded their life raft which was towed in by a local boat, perhaps from a SCUBA operation. Now their boat is lying on its side on the reef with full jib and reefed main deployed.

Potential collateral damage from a mishap like this is the environmental damage from leaking fuel and oil, batteries, and any other hazardous materials. It’s likely too rough to begin any sort of salvage operation, but tomorrow the weather is supposed to begin moderating, and by the weekend the wind is to be very light, so hopefully the seas will flatten out enough to enable salvage of at least the hazmat and perhaps some personal effects. Such a shame, and it sounds like these folks were doing things right.

We do our own risk assessments when we operate, and this particular scenario is one we’ve never considered. Funnily enough, we were crewing a 82’, $9,000,000 superyacht a few years back and were disabled by a large chunk of polypropylene fishing net about a day’s sail from St. Maarten. Still, we’ve never considered the possibility of what just happened to these other sailors. Having sails deployed while maneuvering through a narrow pass, especially in strong currents, shifting winds of varying velocity, can add to the hazard of the operation. Our last passage entry was dead into a strong wind, and we elected to stow all sails. Fortunately for us all went well, but this lastest mishap will make us even more thoughtful.

As our good friend Jamie Gifford has pointed out – this way of life offers great rewards as well as risks. Leave the damn radio on so you can either call for help or respond to a call for help, it’s just part of being a mariner. It might be a boat dragging at anchor, bearing down on YOU, calling to warn you of the danger. You going to voluntarily choose to ignore that? Really?