Salut friends!
It has been a month since we left New Zealand on what has turned out to be an epic adventure with plenty of adrenalin, danger and fervent praying to the good Lord.
I hope you are all well and having a great winter - it certainly looks cold enough on the weather maps, and i have just learned that the all blacks have been kicking ass in the tri-nations!
Our trip eastwards went incredibly well for the first week. Indeed it felt like we were being dragged by our nostrils through the ocean with very favourable SSE winds of 15 - 20 knots. From the skipper down, we all had moments of seasickness but quickly overcame this and fell into the groove of our 2 hour on 8 hour off watch system. Temperatures were pretty cold especially at night but all in all, I was thinking the sailing lark wasn't too bad and actually said: " Things are going too well - how long can this last?"
THE STORM
Not long after that, we recieved a 72 hour weather prognosis showing a tropical convergence zone over Tonga winding up into a very deep low and moving right towards our track. We were almost 1000 nautical miles east of NZ at that stage and as you can appreciate, unable to go anywhere faster than about 10 miles an hour (approximately swimming speed). At first, we tried to convince ourselves that the Met Service was delusional but over the next few days we watched in awe as all the clouds in the sky stretched out and began to slowly but surely wind up into some evil centre a few hundred miles north of us. The sky ended up completely grey and we never saw the sun or stars again for five days. The sea got angrier and angrier as the windspeed settled at 35 knots. The tropical storm then began bearing down on us moving closer at a speed of about 25 knots. We hove to for a day then when the 7m seas started breaking, we deployed our sea anchor (which we had fortunately practised with in the Hauraki Gulf). This life saving piece of kit is a parachute attached to 200m of incredibly thick, strong and stretchy nylon braid that kept us almost head to wind, creating a slick of disturbed water from our underwater appendages which theoretically breaks the surface tension of waves and stops them overwhelming the vessel. Soon it was howling 40-50 knots and believe me, at night especially this is a terrifying situation. Some waves we could hear coming, before they pounded the boat but the big ones came without warning and really rocked our souls to the core. At dawn of the second morning, we got hit by a monster and were surfed backwards down a wave. If you can visualise a 45 foot yacht surfing backwards, you have some idea of the sea state. The force applied to our rudder, which was lashed amidships caused our solid bronze tiller fitting to explode outwards at 40 degrees. Due to the quick reactions and seamanship of Armie Armstrong, he was able to re-lash the manic tiller-head, before that broke completely and our rudder dropped to the bottom of the ocean. With the tiller broken, it was a new level of terror. The centre of the low had now parked up close by and was intensifying to cyclone status. Our barometer dropped to 1000 hectapascals but the monster eventually deepened to 960 when it finally carried on south east to the southern ocean.
We had another 2-3 days on the para-anchor in massive seas with 35 knots waiting for a chance to begin the tiller repair (which took a whole day). Every hour one of us had to check the rode (the rope) for chafing which involved crawling up to the bow, taking the odd green wave on the head and grovelling around with bits of leather etc. During the ordeal, we managed to maintain our position, only losing 30 nautical miles rather than getting blown all the way back home by the nuking easterlies. I did not sleep at all for the entire 5 day ordeal. Hopefully our kiting friends back home scored great sessions on the east coast for a good week at our expense! The whole experience was fascinating as I've always wondered how those bombs actually work but hope I never get as close again. We've since heard of a brand new 110 foot sloop that lost its carbon mast in the same storm and had to motor all the way back home to NZ.
It was with great relief we started sailing again and gradually things calmed down. It had taken us 2 weeks now to get halfway to our destination. The whole passage was intended to take 2 weeks. Fortunately my mum had come through at the last minute with a carload of extra food which added greatly to morale during these hard times. Even better was the moment I started catching tuna and sashimi became a daily reality!
Severely run down by the storm, I fell sick (could it be the raw tuna hearts?) and had big problems holding food down. I got very dehydrated and could barely do my watches, sleeping all the rest of the time. Then another storm hit and we were back to the big blue wobbly and 35+ knots. I hadn't had a problem with seasickness till then but in my weakened state was a write-off and was basically a passenger for the last few days of the trip. Eventually I managed to rehydrate with some gastrolytes. Ugh!
LAND AHOY!
Twenty days from Auckland, we sailed into the absolutely stunning remote atoll of Raivavae (pop. 1027). It was Bastille Day and a week long dancing party was in full swing. The local villages challenged each other to massed dance offs and the drums beat all night, with massive free feasts for us! The dancing was incredible - only 8 paalangis in a crowd of 400 beautiful wahine and hansome warriors.
Armie and I rented bicycles off some teenagers and loaded our kiting kit on our backs to seek the ultimate spot. There was a perfect 20 knots on 100 square klicks of virgin lagoon with waves peeling in every direction but do you think we could find a single safe launch site? After pedalling 25 kms around the isle with heavy loads, our legs which had wasted way to pieces of string were useless and still no kiting!
Once we unpacked my boat however, we were able to go wakeboarding. My 18hp Tohatsu managed to pull 110 kg Shikane (crewmember) out of the water which surprised us both. The Hippy and I went on an outer reef fish mish and lost a good sized wahoo round a coral head but I landed a magnificent 20 pound giant trevally which towed the boat around for a while.
With the Zodiac we could charge over to a little sandbar (just big enough to rig a kite on) and kite upwind from there. We had three days of this in increasing wind. The first day I deployed my brand new Slingshot 17.5 machine and even de-tuned it was a fun-filled handful in over 20 knots. Then I pulled out the 11m Fuel and had a couple of days of spectacular boost fests, one of which was the most beautiful sunset sesh ever. We snapped some film and the shots will surface in due course.
The whole crew then scaled a reasonably high mountain and got the supreme views of the whole lagoon, fringed with little motus. We spied an unbelievable kiting spot which I named 'Disneyland'. We sailed the yacht, weaving around countless coral bombs to get there but unfortunately the wind was dropping out. Nevertheless, we enjoyed a night ashore on a desert island cooking steaks, potatoes and crabs on an open fire, drinking mount gay rum and generally congratulating ourselves after the privations of our trip.
It was with some regret we sailed away from the largely unexplored Australes group of islands. I wanted to spend another month there at least. Two of our crew have to fly home from Tahiti soon so we had to leave. The next 400 mile trip was a dream in 15 knot sunny trades right on the beam. We caught more varieties of tuna and a double strike (male and female that mate for life) of mahi mahi. These are the most beautiful fish and I resolved never to target them again. Its a tragedy to catch one and leave the other alone, but to kill a pair of innocent newlyweds is a bit much. Plus I still reckon yellowfin tuna steaks are hard to beat!
Tahiti is a little bigger, cleaner, more exotic, even more spendy and bustling than I remember it. We are cheek by jowl with tall ships, superyachts and weather beaten ocean wallopers. Yesterday the Hippy and I hitched to the kite beach which is not far from where Captain Cook first moored the Endeavour. Point Venus where he built a fort to observe the transit of venus is just downwind. It was nuking 30 knots yesterday and I met an old friend - Terry the local kiting legend - who I met 7 years ago at a windsurf contest on Raiatea. I was learning to kite then and we had some good laughs about old times. These days, he routinely surfs Teahupoo and is still waiting for the big swells to start arriving from NZ for the start of the big wave season. Newsflash: Today they arrived at 10-12 foot. All the Hawaian big wave surfers are flying down at the moment and it should build to 15 foot (30 ft wave faces!). We've been kiting every day in the lagoon and are fully fit again. We've hooked up with the skipper and first mate (both kiwis) of a 120 foot super ketch US$30 million and are teaching them to kite in return for driving us to the beach and plying us with cold lager. As I write I am sitting in the bridge of the ship which is like the Starship Enterprise! Tomorrow, we're moving our yacht closer to Teahupoo and will set up my boat so we can get close enough to watch the action. The Hippy reckons he's going to hit the 20 foot lip, we'll see. Speaking of him, his brother Conrad shaved him a couple of days ago on his birthday and now he looks like just another schmoe and I can't recognise him when kiting.
Life on the yacht is all good. The days fly by, one bucket of laundry takes up about a tenth of a day. There's always chores to do on the boat, plus sailing the bloody thing. We have sundowners most nights and listen to our ipods while gliding along in the moonlight.
Despite all the activity, you guys are often in my thoughts and I'd really appreciate hearing your news. I will be checking my email address
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infrequently.
Please keep in touch, tell me your gossip - live your dreams and keep making the most of your awesome chance at life!
Bonsoir
--
Shaan L Miller
On board 'Secret Affair' somewhere in the South Pacific (June- November 2006)
Coromandel 
Whangamata 
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