The Fifth Circle: The Passage Log Webb Chiles After I completed my fourth circumnavigation in Sydney, Australia, in February, 2003, I sailed THE HAWKE OF TUONELA across the Tasman to New Zealand, where she found a home at Opua in the Bay of Islands. I bought her a mooring; and I paid the duty so that she could remain in New Zealand permanently, although I can not. For several years I divided my time between the 37’ sloop, which I sailed up to French Polynesia and back one year, and to Tonga and Fiji and back another, and being with Carol, my wife, in the United States, I was happy in Opua and found unexpected peace there. But after a while I wanted to go for a sail. These are the passage logs as I wrote them at sea. They have been only minimally edited, mostly to reduce typographical errors and repetition. This is raw data, the immediate experience. Opua, New Zealand to Cairns, Australia April-May, 2008 5 Cairns to Darwin, Australia May, 2008 48 Darwin, Australia to Bali, Indonesia June 2008 100 Bali, Indonesia to Cocos, Australia July-August 2008 119 Cocos, Australia to Durban, South Africa Aug.-Sept. 2008 143 Durban to Port Elizabeth, South Africa January 2009 214 Port Elizabeth, South Africa to Antigua Feb.-March 2009 225 Antigua to US Virgin Islands March 2009 361 US Virgin Islands to Panama April 2009 367 The Panama Canal May 2009 388 Panama to Nuku Hiva May-June 2009 396 Nuku Hiva to Raiatea, The Society Islands June 2009 455 Raiatea to Bora-Bora, The Society Islands Sept. 2009 479 Bora-Bora to Opua, New Zealand Sept.-Oct. 2009 482 Numbers 551 Sailing to Africa 561 Opua, New Zealand to Cairns, Australia April-May 2008 April 21 South Pacific Ocean: Monday 0920 Dropped mooring. 1530 I set the alarm this morning for 5:30 because I expected I would wake during the night and have trouble falling back asleep. I did. Awake from 3 to 4 a.m. I woke again just before the alarm went off. I unmade the v-berth and plastic bagged the bedding. Rowed ashore at 7:50, showered, said good-bye to the ladies in the marina office, which was just opening, got my Customs clearance, bought a loaf of bread, cheese, a sandwich, and a bottle of wine at the general store; rowed back to the boat; deflated, partially dried the dinghy, then stowed it below. I backed off the mooring--or thought I did. Later developments have caused me to believe I was only carried by the ebbing tide. I felt some sadness as I shifted into forward and powered north. I glanced back at the mooring until I couldn’t see it any more. Then at the marina and buildings ashore. New Zealand’s green hills: emerald, olive, forest, sea, lime, and many more shades for which I don’t have names. I hope I wasn’t seeing them for the last time. Beneath mostly cloudy skies we powered for an hour, until when we were past Russell and into the main part of the bay, I unfurled the jib, cut the engine, and switched steering from the tiller pilot to the Monitor. The sky was clearing on the land behind me, but darker with scattered showers out to sea to the east. Wind 15 knots from the south. I set the main as well, and we reached across the bay at 6 to 7 knots until at 11:00 we were off Cape Wiwiki and had some excitement. Due to rebound, decreasing depth, and currents, the seas were confused off the cape and the motion caused the anchor to roll at the bow, which caused me to notice that I had forgotten to remove the anchor from the bow. This would have been easy while on the mooring; considerably less so now. I decided to wait until we were past the cape and into deeper water where the seas should smooth before going forward, but went below to get some tools. When I did I heard the propeller freewheeling and felt the vibration. To prevent this and make the propeller’s blades fold, I always shift into reverse after I stop the engine while underway. I knew I had done this, but went on deck and did it again without any effect. I removed the companionway stairs and the engine cover, crawled onto the port quarterberth with a flashlight and saw the shaft spinning. I went on deck and shifted into reverse again. Nothing. I decided to furl the jib and lower the main and start the engine, which I did. It shifted forward, but not into reverse. And when I stopped the engine, the prop continued to spin. Back on the quarterberth I saw the reason: the shift cable has frayed and is almost broken. I briefly considered turning around and going back, but didn’t want to. I managed to use a wrench to move the shift manually, which caused the prop blades to fold and the vibration stop. I won’t need reverse until Cairns anyway, and with luck not there. In mid-afternoon we are past the Cavalli Islands, making 5 to 6 knots peacefully under jib alone. The main has been up and down three times and may be about to go up again. The wind is so far aft that the main blankets the jib and causes it to collapse and refill with a bang. North Cape is 49 miles to the northwest. Until I put the waypoint in, I had thought North Cape was about a hundred miles beyond Cape Wiwiki, but it is only 70. We should be off it around midnight. Rolling down small waves. Sounds of water moving past hull. Sunshine. Tiller moving in and out of view through companionway. A little weary. April 22 South Pacific Ocean: Tuesday 0700. Last night was fine, with a full moon and starry sky, but not for sleeping. I went to bed at 1930, knowing I would be up many times. The first was at 2030, and the last 0430 this morning, when I got up for good. I don’t recall how many others there were, but I was awake at 2330 when the chartplotter put us 22 miles due east of North Cape. Late yesterday afternoon, the wind weakened and went southeast rather than southwest. THE HAWKE OF TUONELA was thrown around by a six to eight foot southeast swell. The mainsail was up, and I put a preventer on the boom. We rocked and rolled on for an hour before the crashing of collapsing sails became too much, and I lowered the main, continuing under jib alone. During the night we sailed at between three and eight knots. The sea flattened some, but I still had to put up the lee cloth to keep from rolling from my berth. The wind finally veered to the southwest. At the moment we’re making 6.5 to 7 knots beam reaching northwest under a partially furled jib. The sun is just coming up. The sky partially cloudy. In the United States, I seldom listen to the radio, but in New Zealand I do. My mooring is in a dead area for New Zealand television reception, but New Zealand television is perhaps the most boring in the English-speaking world anyway. However, New Zealand national radio is very good. Monday through Friday I listen to a news program between 6 and 9 a.m., Morning Report; and on Saturday morning between 7 and 8 to Country Life, which is a surprisingly interesting farm program. And frequently during the day I turn on the classical music FM station, which is more varied and innovative than those in the U.S. I’m already beyond FM reception, but before dawn this morning I heard the first hour of Morning Report, including the weather. The predicted front is moving up from the south, with showers and southwest wind rising to 25 knots. It may reach me late this afternoon or tonight. If necessary I will ease off to the north. No need to press hard when eventually I will reach the trades that will carry me easily west. I’m not certain exactly which ocean or sea I’m in. An Australian friend gave me a book about the Tasman Sea, which precisely defined its boundaries, but unfortunately it is in Evanston. I tried unsuccessfully to find this on Google before I left. We are 43 miles north of North Cape, but not yet west of all of New Zealand, so I think we’re still in the Pacific. No sight of any other vessels since yesterday morning. Surprisingly again how quickly you become alone. Also how much when the boat is constantly heeled 10º to 20º, you use your body to move from handhold to handhold. Scattered low clouds. Wind 17 knots. Some spray coming over bow. Boat speed 7.3. ---------- 1430. Our noon position was 33º 18’ S 173º 07’E. Day’s run: 120 miles. Distance to Grafton Passage, which is the way through the Great Barrier Reef at Cairns: 1764 miles. Cairns itself is about 30 miles further. The day’s run noon to noon is only a five knot average, made up of mostly sailing at three and four knots until after midnight and then sailing at six and seven ever since. A beautiful afternoon. Mostly sunny, though the barometer has dropped a millibar and a bank of clouds is catching up with us from the southwest.