Well the passage was just a little slower than we’d hoped as we had to jibe downwind in lighter airs than forecast. As dawn I relieved Isabel who was just about to make herself a cup of coffee to try and stay awake, and she instead elected to crash and saw wood. About 0800 I was looking at the pass and marveling at the big surf breaking on either side of the rather narrow channel. Wow. To extend my viewing pleasure the jib got furled and engines started, then aligned JollyDogs with the first set of range markers. The pass has a dog let in it so one has to hang a left after getting past the sportier part. That first leg looked pretty turbulent at the moment but no big standing waves.
Maupiti is known for breaking waves in the pass if there’s a southerly swell exceeding 2 meters. Locals say 2.5 meters max swell, but certainly we’d prefer none at all. There are Youtube videos showing catamarans in Australia standing off in rowdy conditions, preparing to cross bars at river entrances. They seem to time the wave sets then gun the engines and surf on in to delight of shore bound onlookers. Occasionally, to the horror or those onlookers they get it wrong and broach, losing their vessel and making rescue necessary. Aussies are known for stretching the envelope at times, and while JollyDogs was born in Oz and we’ve lots of friends who were spawned there, our Youtube video better be yawn inspiring.
Anyway, Isabel hears the motors start and her natural and somewhat justified suspicions about her husband’s questionable judgement force her from her slumber and she emerges to make sure we’re not about to do something regrettable. No no no, I assure her, just making sure I get the lay of the land and does she have a preference regarding hoving-to or tacking back and forth and fishing for a bit? She doesn’t offer any druthers, so I review the hove to procedure with her and give it a go. Main sail appropriate for existing wind conditions, track to one side at the limit and sheet hard on, jib furled, rudders on opposite tack to the main position. Apparently, we should drift downwind at about 1 knot with the boat in a cycle of heading up then falling off to about 60 degrees. We drift at more like 1.8 knots, so I bring the wheel full over to the opposite side to see how that would work. Still a higher drift rate and a different behavior. I radio our pals on SV Sugar Shack and Matt advises that they don’t really ever hove-to, so we’re on our own. Plotting our course reveals that the boat is behaving as expected, just drifting at a higher rate than advertised in the “operator’s manual”.
We get bored with that and decide to fish for a bit, and soon we’re clipping along at 6-8 knots hoping the fish are interested in wind sprints before death. No joy, and about 1015 Matt radios us from his dinghy and pronounces the pass “just fine for an entry, very little current and no standing waves”. Heck, while wait another couple of hours until the noon slack tidal flow, we’ll just boogaloo on in and get settled. As a further incentive he notes that a free mooring is available in the anchorage near them, just hang a left after clearing the pass. Right! Jib away, main sail down, engines on, and we line up on the range markers for the entry. Isabel has a good look around, brings me my life jacket and asks me to clip on, shuts the saloon door and then goes below to, in her own words, “cower in fear”.
It’s a pretty interesting ride, and it turns out the current is running out at around 3.5 knots at the strongest, but with both engines blazing at a comfortable rpm (leaves plenty of excess power in reserve) I maneuver us on in and soon we’re lined up on the second set of range markers, the exciting part just a memory. Actually, the crazy part is looking around at the big breaking surf on either side as we motor through the narrow entrance. Bit of a head game there.
Now where’s that darn mooring?
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