I’ll leave the photos and video to do the talking, but I’m sticking around a little longer here in Apia, Samoa to volunteer with the Red Cross. I took this media while out today, volunteering on the worst affected area: The east of the island.

Thank you to Weide, Stuart, Mark, Benjamin and Lidia for their donations to the sailing kitty – I will be using the donated money to cover the costs of staying longer here in the marina. I cannot stay long, due to the weather situation (I’m always… Late in the season). However I will stay for a bit longer, and think about departing early next week.

The start of my second day with the Red Cross










Recovering a body

More photos online here.
Nick.

As Constellation rumbled, I jumped out of my bunk at a well practiced speed. I can pull myself up and out with one hand, and be on deck in seconds from a deep sleep… Usually it’s because Constellation is getting slammed or a squall has snuck up at night, and we’re blasting upwind as the windvane struggles, but this was a new sensation… I stood in the cockpit and watched everyone else in the marina doing the same – The marina pylons rumbled, the docks shook. It seemed to last minutes, and then nothing. I meandered around the dock to talk with an Irish singlehander about his trip, thinking a tsunami was unlikely, as did everyone else. Then the alarms sounded, and the streets of Apia began to flood with people, as everyone jumped into any car heading to higher ground. I ran to Constellation, got my passport and wallet, and ran out of the marina. Eddy’s began forming in the marina, as I considered taking Constellation out into the bay… But I knew there was no way my engine could move against that surge. My decision to stay was sound – I would have knocked around the marina in the surge and simply damaged other boats. Two large yachts departed under full engine – They strained, and began to go backwards on the second surge, as Apia harbour began to drain. The surge reversed, and thankfully the boats then rode it out of the channel to safe water.

I sat near Aggie Grey’s hotel, watching. It was not high ground, and in hindsight, not the most intelligent of decisions. I guess the feelings I experienced were those of people watching fires approach their homes. To go or stay? I watched the harbour recede several times, but with every surge, the danger seemed to lessen. Eventually Police drove by and said they would arrest me for disobeying orders, and demanded I seek higher ground. So I went to the third story of the hotel and waited. I had my laptop and desperately wanted to get online to see some real data. The hearsay was absurd, with nobody having any real information. Internet access across the island went down, and so I waited… Eventually things seemed to go back to normal, and the hotel gave us free breakfast… I walked into town, and was told to leave again – The town was deserted, except for what seemed like potential looters loitering around. I returned to the hotel and waited. No taxis, no people, no internet, and my visiting parents were on the south of the island, staying virtually at sea level in palm huts. Eventually data networks came back online, and I researched the USGS and other government sites for real data. I saw where the earthquake pulse came from, and realised the south of the island would have been most affected. Many locals said there was no damage on the south, but the reality is – It was chaos and no one had any idea what was happening, and with no major media, there was no real news. I attempted to call the resort of my parents, only to get a disconnected line. I returned to the marina, and heard the south was devastated… I ran to my local friend, and we immediately drove south. Everything seemed relatively normal, until we got to sea level. The wave had come at least 150ft inland. Driving along the dirt road to the remote resort, it was clear the water had come in high. Local houses and boats were trashed, rocks strewn across the road. We talked to locals who said everyone had been evacuated to the local church, and so my parents were found safe, but bruised and shaken. While we can pack up and leave, our condolences go out to the family of Virgin Cove Resort, who must now return to lost homes and businesses.

The large reef that surrounds most (if not all?) of Western Samoa offered some protection to the wall of water that hit my parents. The palm huts they were staying in were run down, as my dad was swept into the jungle, across volcanic rock. My mum sought refuge above a cistern as water rushed around her. They were interviewed by an Australian newspaper – Online here.

Thanks to the generous Aggie Grey hotel, and also to Bruce, the regional sales manager for Virgin/Polynesian/Pacific Blue – Who gave up his personal room and drove my parents to the airport this morning at 3am.

I am trying to figure out a way to assist here with Australian aid workers, but, it seems nearly impossible to figure out how to help here… There must also be remote islands who have suffered and will not receive help… If anyone knows aid organisations that are accepting volunteer help, please contact me.

And so now… Constellation and I have experienced tropical waves, towering swells at sea, dodged hurricanes, earthquakes and tsunamis.

And we’re still not home yet.

Nick.

The trip south to Samoa from Palmyra Atoll afforded steady trades, and good sailing, with only a few days of wind that might have tended on the ‘too strong stop spilling my coffee!’ side. Constellation averaged 110nm days, and I know she could do another 20nm a day, however as I always have, the sailing was more about conservation of the boat, and comfort for her crew than speed. During nights, I reef the main, roll in a bit of jib, and soldier on through the dark nights. Signs of life all the way from Hawaii were scarce: One tuna clipper, and one airplane. It felt lonely out there.

Nearing Samoa, the wind died, and as I normally do, I became antsy and irritated. Thankfully after a bout of heavy squall activity, the wind re-appeared, and destroyed my entrance schedule into Apia, Samoa (perfectly timed until the wind stopped…)- We entered at 02:30am. Nervously listening to the waves crash upon the reef to starboard, the port authority directed us to anchor, and after 32 days, we’d officially made it to a south pacific island. Unable to clear customs and forced into the marina (cheekily, anchoring and staying at the marina costs the same…), the quarantine flag flew, yet security didn’t mind me going into town without clearance – I would have died, sitting on the dock watching people eating real food, and drinking cold beer after so long at sea, bound by the gates of the marina. As Monday rolled around, we were visited by five state departments: Immigration, health, customs, agriculture and the port authority. All those names might seem intimidating, but really, you just write your name, address, and boat name on five different pieces of paper, holding different titles…

Arrival, Apia, Samoa

For the first time in awhile, Constellation was not the smallest boat in the harbour. There lay, a boat registered in Copenhagen, a 25ft yacht. I was livid! Yet after that particular boat left, life went back to normal, where Constellation was dwarfed by what seems to be a dominance of 40ft+ boats – Many registered in Australia, and New Zealand – Home seems just around the corner…. The shops are full of Maggi Two Minute noodles, Milo, Vegemite, Tim Tams… (Apologies to non-Australians, none of that will make any sense). It’s beautiful here, and the people are extraordinarily friendly – The Samoans appear to have held onto their culture more than any other place I’ve visited, and it’s refreshing to be on an island that hasn’t been completely overrun by colonialists. It isn’t devoid of missionary success though, however I guess that’s another discussion best saved for my non-existent blog covering geopolitical musings and island theology… !

I’ve experienced much of the island with the friendly help of local Samoan, ‘Time’ (pronounced ti-may), having the opportunity of seeing a Samoa not everyone gets the opportunity to experience – This weekend I have been invited to a local wedding, and even a spot of night bat hunting! Yet as with every landfall, it isn’t long before ones mind starts wondering to the next port of call. I feel a tinge of melancholy and excitement about seeing the east coast of Australia on my Pacific charts. The official two year anniversary of this voyage passed on the 17th of this month, but really, this is all I’ve done for three years (the first spent paying for the boat, among other things). While I’m sure it will wear off very quickly, I often yearn for a dose of my former reality: The ability to lay in a bed and bend my legs completely, to buy a coffee on a whim, or see long lost friends. I know some of you are sitting there, scoffing at that idea, but what can I say – I do know wanderlust will hit me again like a freight train soon after this is all done, but I have to be somewhat honest – I am getting tired. Not tired in a bored sense, but tired in an emotional sense. Thankfully the very thought of these beautiful islands and my distance from home, keeps my motivation strong, even on the worst of days. Anyway, I think you came here to hear about paradise in the south Pacific, not the idle whimpering of a palagi… Here are some more photos.

So, the next stop is Fiji. I will leave next week, and after that… Who knows. Maybe a straight hop to mainland Australia. Or maybe I’ll scrap all that and visit Tonga en route… Or Wallis Island, or Norfolk Island, or maybe even Lord Howe. There is a lot to see, but limited time as another hurricane season follows me around the globe. Every boat I seem to meet is high-tailing it to New Zealand – I would love to touch the north island of NZ, yet it would mean waiting another several months before I could make my passage across the Tasman Sea…

Nick.

This time two years ago, Constellation was strapped to a dock in The Netherlands. The town, Monickendam, just north of Amsterdam, is known for its smoked eel, pretty bridges, and superyacht production. Now, we are free in the south Pacific, on a beam reach doing 100+nm days, headed for Western Samoa. The trip out of Hawaii to Palmyra Atoll was frankly, miserable. It included some of the most oppressive heat I’ve experienced, the worst calms, days of heavy seas and winds, and generally was an awfully slow and trying voyage…

Watching the GPS, and looking at the compass, I noticed a disparity 50nm short of Palmyra. Almost 2kts of equitorial current was pushing us east, and with no wind, waking up every morning was depressing, as we were pushed further and further away from landfall. Eventually we struggled within 31nm of the Atoll, and I decided enough was enough: The mighty Yanmar was doing the rest of the work. Unfortunately through a set of circumstances I’ve yet to fathom, the engine was full of cream coloured oil.With the help of John out of Brewer Yacht Yard, in Greenport Long Island, satellite email, and my books, it was ascertained the water must have come in through the exhaust, or through the seacock. I spent dizzying hours with my head in the bilge, draining the oil into water containers. Putting half a litre of fresh oil back in the engine, I started her up, and noticed no new water. I let the oil warm, drained it, and filled it up again, and we were off. I have to say, that little Yanmar is an extraordinary engine.

With wide-eyes, Palmyra Atoll was approached from the East, with distant waves crashing at sea on reefs, dozens of new birds, palm lined beaches, and strange military structures abound… At last, land was found in the middle of nowhere. On channel 16, I called Palmyra Station. Amanda, the Fish and Wildlife representative and refuge manager, answered with excitement – Yes, Constellation was finally here! Having no idea who, or how many people were on the Atoll, I was suprised with the amount of radio traffic, as Constellation rounded the top of the island, and skirted reefs to the infamous channel entrance. Not sure of who or what to expect, it was even more suprising to be given an escort through the channel by Brad, the marine operations manager. Brad had us anchor just off of the main station, whch was an encampment of small bungalows, mess hall, generators, science labs, satellite dishes, sheds with tractors, and even the world famous Palmyra Yacht Club.

Invited to dinner on the first night, the sight of freshly cooked and crumbed Ahi (tuna), vegetables, and other delights not found on a boat (especially mine, where absolutely no fish have been tempted by lures…), all the pain of getting to the atoll was gone in an instant. Special thanks to Franklin and Amanda for the invitations, and to Anthony for possibly being the worlds most isolated chef.

Palmyra Atoll has quickly become the most interesting, beautiful, and unusual place I’ve visited on my entire voyage. It has always been my dream to visit places that may otherwise be impossible to gain access to by any other means of transport – And being allowed to visit the now privatised island (owned by The Nature Conservancy) was a great highlight. Thank you to The Nature Conservancy for keeping the island open to sailors, and also many thanks to the Fish and Wildlife Service for ,handling the details and particulars of our visit. I can’t embed photos while at sea, however all my photos of Palmyra are online here

And so now, just 465nm from Western Samoa, I am also in the southern hemisphere after nearly exactly two years en route to Australia. Jeff, thank you for the French champagne to celebrate 0 degrees, however I must say, it was room temperature, and room temperature on the equator is, well… Hot!

For now, I’m going back to lying on my bunk, as sweat drips into my eyes, and the large tradewind seas toss Constellation around like a piece of driftwood… It’s beautiful and special out here, but it’s also tough going.

Nick.

The voyage so far has not been exactly as I expected. But I guess there in lies the problem: Expectation… As mentioned in my last post from out here, the wind shadow created by the Big Island sheilded us from big seas and strong winds, yet the shelter didn’t last long before Constellation was flying amongst rather large walls of water. Eventually things calmed, and then calmed a little too much, until the big sea remained, and the wind disappeared… Being becalmed is hard enough, but being becalmed in a swell is enough to want to make you jump off the ship. The wind did return, went away, returned, the sea flattened, and I watched DVD’s to pass the time, with stars reflecting on a glassy ocean.

Surrounded by odd weather systems, and Tropical Storm Hilda hovering around to our east, the weather as I’ve been trying to explain has been unpredictable, and frankly not what I expected. Not to mention the fishing: Are there any fish left, may I ask? Or have the great Tuna clippers drained the Pacific? I’ve seen the pictures in Kontiki, as Thor hauled fish after fish aboard: I’ve hauled nothing aboard except an empty line. Not only have I not seen fish, I’ve not really seen anything at all. Not a ship, not a plane, just a few bits of rubbish, and a coconut drifting by.

There is however, no point displaying disappointment in all this, because it is what it is, but I guess I just expected steady trades all the way down to Palmyra, and a fish or two to keep my cans of beef stew unopened… And so, with 280nm to go, the wind is predicted to shift right onto my nose, and I have no idea when we might make landfall…

For those interested, I’m in the Inter Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) right now, which is a band of strangeness (yes, I am a meteorologist…) hovering near the equator, creating hot, humid and squally conditions. It’s too hot outside to enjoy the cooling breeze, and down below it feels like the chart table is melting and my mind is turning to mush. There is no escape… And yes, I have seriously considered redirecting to British Columbia.

[Sorry folks, this should have gone up a few days ago, but it got spam-trapped for some reason. - Marty.]

Firstly, I have a bunch of people to thank. To begin with… All those great people who sent through donations while I was sailing to Hawaii or sitting in port – You know who you are, but many people don’t: Debbie, Deborah, Terri, Julio, Weide, James, Gillian, TV Navigation, Kevin, Bain… You guys (and girls) are awesome. You all made my life much easier in port – I could afford to provision with some decent food as opposed to junking it with Ramen noodles, which make me utterly miserable. They make Constellation miserable too, because I get cranky and yell into the wind more (like a crazy person). And speaking of nice food – Special thanks to Adam for the Trader Joe’s care package, posted from San Francisco and full of tasty treats.

After my cries at the cost of a new sail to replace my 20 year old UV destroyed genoa… Dave Benjamin of Island Planet Sails, out of Alameda, offered to help with a deep discount on a new cruising genoa. Still stuck for funds, but wanting to take up Dave’s offer and sail off with a reliable sail, my good friends Mari and Paul came to the rescue (again…) with some extra funds. For those who follow regularly, Mari is the amazing person out of Greenport that fed me, lent a car, helped rebuild Constellation and even re-wire her for the Pacific, while I was on Long Island… Paul is my friend from Melbourne whom I had the first chance to talk about sailing many years ago, and who came to visit me in Southampton, and even organise accommodation for me in Melbourne when I visited over Christmas. Two great friends, and a nice sailmaker = Constellation gets a new Genoa… So, that’s the story on why I was waiting around for a new sail. It arrived, and is fantastic… And somehow Dave rushed it through in two weeks. If you’re buying new sails – Let Dave help you, he ships anywhere, makes nice sails, and is a really nice guy. Thanks also to Ken for being the postbox for the new sail, and hand-delivering it to the club.

So… The Hurricane. You can see what it’s up to on my new tracking page. I left Waikiki Yacht Club, bound for Palmyra two days ago, and swiftly turned around. I was spooked, and rushing out because my Visa expired. I called the coastguard and discussed my problem, and then promptly returned to the Waikik Yacht Club – Who’ve been extraordinarily patient with me and my need to stay in port (either waiting for a new sail, or waiting for hurricanes). I erred on the side of caution with Hurricane Felicia, even though I did my fair share of research – Watching historical data, and current modeling. I think I would have been safe to continue my passage, but, it was a risk, and as someone else mentioned – Better to be sitting in port wishing you were sailing, than sailing and wishing you were in port… In a faster boat with crew, it would have not posed a problem. But in a slow boat with no crew, I think maybe it’s nicer sitting at the yacht club, listening to old salts at the bar discuss high winds and surging seas, than have to experience them. As soon as the Pacific basin clears up, I’m outta here. As for my Visa… Customs and Immigration were completely understanding, and even came to my boat to fix up the paperwork and help me out. Nice.

For those curious on where I’m going, and what I’m doing, my route is fairly simple, and I’m looking forward to nice sailing with a perfect wind-angle for my next leg. As already noted, I plan to head for Palmyra first, the small Pacific atoll just over 900nm from Honolulu. Palmyra has a really interesting history, and is currently a Nature Conservancy, run by the US government – Read the Wikipedia page for better information. I’ve been given permission to visit, and can’t wait to enter the reef-shark infested lagoon that has had its entrance blasted out by dynamite, and who’s shores sparkle with blue crabs. Located 6degrees above the equator, the Atoll is 3ft above sea level, drenched in equatorial heat and haunted with ghosts and a curious past. Hiding (supposedly) Spanish bullion and the body parts of a double murder, Palmyra is the kind of island I’ve been waiting to visit since the inception of this voyage. Of all the oceans, (as with most people), the Pacific conjures up mystery, intrigue and a phenomenal sea-fairing history. I simply can’t wait to explore these odd places that are virtually inaccessible except by private vessel. After Palmyra, I hope to visit Western Samoa, and then hop across to Fiji and then I don’t know… Maybe the (also) strange Lord Howe Island before Sydney… But we’ll take it one island at a time.

Since I’m land-bound again, here is a brief video of my first Pacific leg. It isn’t really as comprehensive as my other videos, but you get the picture… And besides, there is only so much film one can make about bobbing around in the middle of nowhere!

Nick.