Author: Cheryl Fitzgerald

God brings men into deep waters, not to drown them, but to cleanse them—James Aughey

Off watch in the aft cabin of White Dove, I awoke abruptly to footsteps overhead, snapping sails, and lines flogging. The sailboat heeled sharply to starboard as I struggled to sit up. My watch read 0030. I’d only slept for 45 minutes. Grrr…I yelled to my husband on deck, “What on earth is going on out there?” No response. Reluctantly I climbed off the cozy bunk and peered out the companionway. Jerry lunged across the cockpit, slicing the top of his hand open. Blood mixed with rain as he plopped down. “Don’t know what’s wrong, but can’t get the boat to steer.” He pulled the tiller toward him, then away. “There’s nothing there!” We gazed at each other, bewildered. It didn’t make sense. We had replaced the wheel with a tiller so there would be no cable to break and had replaced our spade rudder with a new one just 18 months ago. Jerry shone the flashlight on the tiller head and upper rudder post it connected to. All looked normal. Using a boat-hook, he felt around beneath the stern. There was only empty space where the rudder should have been. How had it sheared off? It was time to pray.

Our crossing to New Zealand from the Ha’apai Group in Tonga had begun on October 27, 1999. The first 3 days were wet and rolling with 25-35 knot winds and 9-foot swells crashing onto the beam. After listening to daily weather reports, we chose to stop at North Minerva Reef to wait out the low that was expected to hit NZ’s North Island on November 3rd. The 2-3 foot high coral ring with narrow opening was a mid-ocean oasis. It was surreal, cocooned in the calm bay while wind howled and waves pounded the exterior reef. Yachts that had continued on experienced 30-50 knot winds with 15-foot seas. No thank you!

Minerva Reef—Lobster hunting with friends

On November 4th, with a good weather window predicted, we resumed passage in company with friends, John and Aleta aboard Holding Pattern. Pleasant sailing winds ranged from 10-20 knots from the NE-ENE. Within 4 days we were 50 miles ahead of HP, averaging a speed of 6 knots, and due to arrive in Opua, Bay of Islands, before dark the next evening—one day ahead of the next forcasted low. Right on target until now. Just after midnight we suddenly faced an enormous problem. We sprang into action, adjusting sails until until the boat was heaved to. This slowed the violent lurching so we could go below and use the VHF to notify vessels in the immediate area to be on guard for us. Next, calling Taupo Radio on the ham radio, we reported our status. After changing into warm clothes and bandaging Jerry’s hand, we fortified ourselves with hot chocolate and formulated a plan while awaiting dawn.

At first light we dragged out 400-feet of anchor rope and deployed it off the stern as a warp to help with steerage, but with negligible results. Jerry took down the spinnaker pole and tightly lashed 2 opposing 12-inch by 20-inch sheets of plywood to the end of it with a spare halyard. With special hardware he secured it to the frame of our Monitor steering vane. All of this took hours and drained energy, especially wrestling the pole out over the stern. Its success was temporary as the fitting eventually twisted loose from the windvane frame. As the boat pitched violently about, we used remaining strength to haul the now water-filled pole back aboard. Thoroughly exhausted, we agreed it was time to stabilize WD, and deployed our 8-foot-diameter ParaTech sea anchor.

Our masthead strobe light flashed its warning as we slept fitfully through a falling barometer and deteriorating weather. In the early hours of November 10th Jerry and I gathered tools and materials after consulting with John from HP by radio. Amidst intermittent showers and Force 8 (35 knot) winds, we built an emergency rudder to bolt onto the servo oar of the Monitor. The dinette table was converted into a workbench. As the sawdust flew, our spirits rose. For the final shaping with the belt sander , I suggested that Jerry take the paddle into the cockpit. Poor guy had to straddle it like a bucking bronco, wearing a snorkeling mask to keep rain and sawdust out of his eyes. What a sight!

As I attempted to clean up the mess below, my husband got us underway with our new rudder. With a great sigh of relief we found it working properly and set a new course for NZ, experimenting with different sail and motor combinations until steering was balanced. We resecured the spinnaker pole (with paddle) halfway off the stern to help prevent rounding up. Steering required manually holding the Monitor’s vane as a sort of vertical tiller.

A stiff breeze blew from the NW allowing us to average 4-5 knots combined with motoring. In the pre-dawn of November 12th, the engine stopped abruptly with a terrifying bang. A loose line had wrapped around the prop. Proceeding under headsail alone made keeping our course more difficult. Westerly winds increased to 30 knots causing confused seas, making it impossible to dive on the prop to untangle the sheet. Des, from Russell Radio, suggested trying to unwind the mess from inside; I used a pipe wrench to turn the propeller shaft in reverse while Jerry laboriously cranked in the line on a winch. Thankfully, it worked and we were back in business, motor-sailing into near-gale conditions.

HP had reached Opua and John organized a meeting of locals and cruisers at the Boathouse to determine how best to help us. Jim Ashby, a local boatyard owner, volunteered to to take his trawler, Olga, out to tow us in. There was a tremendous show of hands for volunteers to assist as crew. By afternoon, cold, exhausted, and discouraged at not being able to tack into the Bay of Islands, only 18 miles away, we beheld a beautiful vision appear on the crest of a swell. It was Olga and her crew plowing through rough seas straight for us. As she circled us her stern rose violently out of the water, the 3-foot prop shaft exposed. It took several attempts to bring the towline on board and secure it. Jerry then spent 30 minutes at the head of our 6-foot bowsprit, crashing through green water as he lashed towels around the line to prevent chafe.

Released at last from the chore of steering, we relaxed and left the driving to Olga. We stumbled down the companionway steps, ate a quick meal, and passed out, oblivious to the jolting ride. Awaking at dusk, we poked our heads out the door. Land! Cape Brett lay to port. What a beautiful sight. At 2330 on November 12th, we picked up a mooring in the calm bay off Opua. God had led us to safety. We thanked Him and all those involved in our rescue. Then headed toward a long, deep sleep for the first time in four nights. We wouldn’t think about building a new rudder for a few days—one we could trust.

Opua, Bay of Islands

God brought us to this safe harbor, and through this and every storm that has and will come our way. He provides endurance, courage, and refuge for our country and the rest of the world during the current pandemic. And He will guide us to find the good in the midst of chaos, suffering, and trials.

110 miles. That’s how far we were from Opua, our port of Entry to New Zealand, when the unthinkable happened. We lost our rudder. Solving that dilemma is another story which I’ll share on my next blog—”Rudderless in the S. Pacific.”

The next four days were an exhausting blur. With Jerry’s ingenuity he jury-rigged our self-steering windvane to act as a temporary boat rudder . We slowly resumed our voyage beating through 30+knot winds and confused 9-foot seas. Our introduction to Kiwi hospitality began via ham radio contact with Russell Radio. Every 2-4 hours the calm, uplifting voice of Des offered advice and encouragement plus connected us to other yachties and updated weather reports.

Unable to hold our course as we neared the Bay of Islands, friends and locals convened at The Boathouse, a referral center for NZ boaters and visiting cruisers. Everyone donated time and money, creating a rescue plan to tow White Dove the final 18-miles. Jim Ashbey, a local boatyard owner, volunteered Olga, his newly built 60+foot trawler. All he requested for the 12-hour trip in deteriorating conditions was a few deckhands and money for fuel. Thanks to our cruising brothers and many strangers whom shared the bond of boating, we reached our destination.

Opua and its surrounding region is all rugged shoreline, rolling hills and grassy pastures with grazing sheep. Rivers and forested trails meander through the lushness where Pohutukawa- the NZ Christmas tree, ancient Kauri, Norfolk Pine, and giant tree ferns thrive in the coastal climate. My favorite tramping path which I walked almost daily was the Opua-Pahia Coastal Walkway. It was 5-km following coastline from the car ferry ramp to Pahia’s beach. There were pleasant views over the bay, sandy beaches, and a mangrove boardwalk. Other nearby tramping included Harrison Scenic Reserve Walk, 1.4-km with some of the best coastal forest in the Bay of Islands. It’s accessible via the coastal walkway at Cherry Bay or Broadview Road, Opua. A 3rd choice is Opua Forest Lookout Track, a 1.5-km tramp through regenerating forest to a gorgeous lookout over the bay.

The small village of Opua is tucked into an inlet on the mainland of North Island. There is a tiny Post Office, a couple of boatyards with marine stores (of course!), and a general store. A 10-minute taxi gets you to Pahia where thankfully, there was a full-sized grocery, restaurants, and tourist shops hugging the beach and wharf.

Anchoring yachties parked their dinghies at the dock of the Opua Cruising Club. This favorite hangout provided cruisers with 25-cent hot showers which felt amazing after bucket and solar showers for months! There was also a book-trading library and long-awaited mail collection service. They hosted a Thanksgiving potluck for 200 cruisers with a barbecued pig and turkey followed by a lively Kiwi band for dancing. At Christmas our “cruising family” gathered for carols, lots of scrumptious food, of course, and a used boat parts gift exchange. Celebrating these holidays in a foreign land was made less painful due to this kind-hearted local community. It also helped that everyone spoke English!

Kiwi generosity again surfaced when tragedy struck a family we’d met while in the S. Pacific. Jack, and his son, John, while on a parts run with a local, were involved in a serious car accident. Jack died instantly and 16-year-old John was hospitalized with back injuries. This family had crossed oceans and battled many storms unscathed, only to reach what cruisers and landlubbers alike perceive as “the safety of land.” Only one of several reasons to pursue your dreams today, for we know not what tomorrow brings.

The Boathouse immediately offered a car so we could visit John and see to his needs until his mom arrived from the U.S. Linda had taken a couple months off Teresa J to spend time with her aging parents. A few days later we rode back to Whangarei with friends for another hospital visit along with other business. A cruising friend’s sister lived south of there. We not only spent a luxurious night in her home savoring a lovely meal, hours of conversation, a queen-sized bed, and full bath, but she left a key under the mat. Her home was open to us anytime—even if she wasn’t there!

People come from around the world for New Zealand’s beauty. But that’s not its only treasure. There’s also the Kiwi people; down to earth, genuine, friendly, generous, and gracious. They are also hardy, outdoorsy people who think 35-knot winds are a gentle breeze and who adore God’s natural beauty. To truly experience NZ, you must experience its people with their hearts of gold.

Have you had a kindness shown?
Pass it on;
'Twas not given for thee alone,
Pass it on;
Let it travel down the years,
Let it wipe another's tears,
'Til in Heaven the deed appears—
Pass it on.

Rev. Henry Burton

Highlights from a few of our favorite anchorages included:

• #7 Nuapapu Island—At Mariner’s Cave we snorkeled down 4-feet, then through a large opening and about 12-feet back to the cave. An eerie, almost mystical sight transfixed us. Sunlight filtered through the water’s entrance as waves of fog rolled in and out with each swell. A jungle hike included 4-5-foot webs laced between trees, but thankfully non-venomous spiders, plus fruit bats at dusk. Our destination was the Lighthouse Cafe. We purchased scrumptious bread and sipped a drink, captivated by this one of a kind atmosphere.
• #8 Kapa Island—We dinghied into Swallow’s Cave with boating friends. After swimming to a rocky ledge we nervously skirted 6-foot pools where poisonous black and white ringed snakes lurked before entering a mysterious domed cavern. shafts of light illuminated stalactites and walls bathed in shades of blue, green, and gold. Translucent aquamarine water, almost 50-feet deep, swirled with clouds of small, rainbow-hued fish. Ending this perfect day led us to another feast at Barnacle beach where Tongan dancing and music serenaded our group beneath a diamond-studded black velvet sky.
• #13 Hunga Island—Once through a nerve-wracking shallow, narrow pass, we anchored in a peaceful lagoon. The only sounds were wind clanking the rigging, rustling palms, birdsong, and nightly crickets. One evening we crammed aboard a friend’s boat to celebrate five birthdays with a potluck and sing-a-long. Another night Club Hunga served a special dinner for about 50 people. It included fish, chicken, Tongan spinach, sweet potato, breadfruit, pineapple, and watermelon, followed by a jam session with cruiser’s and locals. During our week in Hunga we trekked to a primitive village. Pigs, dogs, chickens, and children scampered along dirt lanes interspersed with woven mat houses sprouting thatched or corrugated tin roofs. At the primary school we met Eva, one of two teachers, and gave a geography lesson plus some greatly needed school supplies. The well-mannered children rewarded us with singing and shell necklaces.
• #16 Vaka’eitu Island—We visited this favorite snorkeling site three times. Extraordinary Coral Gardens was located just outside the reef. A continuous coral wall zigzagged through long canyons and pits displaying sea fans, mushrooms, carnations, tables, brains, and other varieties of hard and soft corals. The numerous clown, cuttle, lion, parrot, and other fish paled in comparison to the shades of purple, pink, blue, green, and yellow garden “flowers”.

Vava’u’s outdoor playground also delighted us with humpback whales and dolphins spinning and splashing as we cruised among this protected ocean paradise. The 12-hour passage to Haapai, the central Tongan group, was less favorable. We battled 30+ knot winds close-hauled, with 2-3 meter swells pounding our beam. Foul weather fluctuated with calm during the last week of October. We joined friends for picnics and long walks on the white sandy shore. Anxious for a favorable weather window, we prepared for the New Zealand crossing by washing laundry in buckets, baking bread, moving needed stores to easy, accessible locations, and filling out required entry forms. In-between chores and potlucks we strategized routes and weather with several buddy boaters.

Farewell “Friendly Islands” as Captain Cook aptly named this island country. I hope we have absorbed your philosophy of mo’ui fiemalie and nonga for a contented and peaceful life, satisfied with simple pleasures.

Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times & in every way. The Lord be with all of you. Thessalonians 3:16

A labyrinth of waterways wound past islands clothed in limestone cliffs, canopy of jungles, and occasional beach. WHITE DOVE dropped anchored in Niafu, the Port of Refuge, on the main island of Vava’u. Thirty-four islands made up this northern group in Tonga nudging the International Date Line. Jerry and I lost track of time amid our adventures of snorkeling, feasts, and reunions with several cruising friends met from Mexico through Polynesia. This sailing mecca presented a diversity of anchorages only an hour or so apart. Several charter companies offered day sails or extended vacations whether bare-boating or with a captain/crew.

Fragrant vanilla pods permeated Niafu as we stocked up at their excellent outdoor produce market, savoring our first juicy watermelon in six months. Local craft booths exhibited an extensive array of woven baskets in all shapes and sizes made from tan, brown, black , and white pandanus leaves. I packed quite a few on our boat, using to store produce and shells. Also popular was tapa cloth made from the bark of the paper mulberry tree. After beaten paper-thin, it was hand-painted with natural dyes.

On Friday evenings many yachties converged at Anna’s Cafe for happy hour, cheering on boat racers in the harbor and enjoying a local band. Sundays found us attending the Free Wesleyan Church. Tongan men and women dressed in the traditional ta’ovala, a skirt of finely woven pandanus matting. Half of the congregation made up the harmonic choir, captivating us with dark warm eyes, shy smiles, and heart-felt singing. The long sermon spoken in their language was a small price to pay for experiencing their faith and joy.

One afternoon after service a group of us were invited to a feast at Isaiah’s home in Pangai Village. We sat on mats, passing large clam shells brimming with roasted pig, fish, corned beef, oysters, octopus, breadfruit, taro, sweet potatoes, and papaya, all baked with coconut cream sauce in their umu- an underground oven. Plates were large palm leaves, cutlery our fingers!

Niafu was interesting, but the majority of time was spent exploring various numbered anchorages. See Part 2 for a list of these and more adventures.

As you go through this day, look for tiny treasures strategically placed along the way. I lovingly go before you and plant little pleasures to brighten your day.

From “Peace In His Presence” by Sarah Young

“Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter”

Izaak Walton

I kept a diligent watch for uncharted coral heads as Jerry steered White Dove through Te Ava Nui Pass into Bora Bora’s variegated blue lagoon. Romance, Escapade, and Holding Pattern sat at anchor near the yacht club, awaiting our arrival. Checking in on the Seafarer’s ham radio net while crossing the Pacific from Mexico to French Polynesia, we had become acquainted with several sailors all following the Coconut Milk Run. Each landfall brought reunions with these surrogate families, sharing adventures, assistance, potlucks, and holidays , so far from home.

Enchanted starlit evenings with the rhythm of drums and melodious swell of Polynesian voices drew us ashore for singing and dancing competitions. Fete was in full swing. Children from five to eighteen, wearing colorful hip-hugging skirts and flowered belts with matching tops, performed first. Leis and heads adorned with flowery wreaths swayed to the music, hands telling the history of these ancient seafarers. Another night tall, tattooed men, bare chests glistening, stomped to the beat of several toeres-hollow wooden drums. It was the Tamure, a fast, erotic dance that quickened pulses. Females wore elaborate headdresses woven with feathers, shells, and flowers above their waist-length dark hair. Brown eyes and full lips smiled warmly as they danced to more complex choreography—hips rotating, long grass skirts swishing, hands weaving intricate patterns.

A group of us cruisers delighted in a day of cycling the 32-kilometer level road encircling the main island. Breath-taking views of the twin basalt peaks soared above. Inland slopes and valleys blossomed with hibiscus and bougainvillea. Among our stops were:

—American Naval guns left from the WWII base fascinated the guys.

—Intriguing maraes built from coral slabs and basalt rocks. These open-air grounds were mainly reserved for religious ceremonies, but also marriages, war councils, peace treaties, and more. Occasionally human sacrifices of captured enemies were performed on the ahu-the temple platform. Thankfully these practices ended with the introduction of Christianity in the early 1800s.

—Cheeseburgers at infamous Bloody Mary’s accompanied by American 60’s music. Dirt floors, a thatched roof, sink and urinal waterfalls, and tall carved tiki heads enhanced the ambiance.

Several days were spent anchored in 10-feet of swimming-pool water at secluded Motu Pitiaau. This narrow reef islet sits atop the atoll surrounding Bora Bora. Churning ocean lies on one side, the peaceful lagoon on the other. While strolling the beach we met a welcoming family living among the coconut palms in weathered huts. Hitiona invited us to sit, introducing his wife, Haumata, plus several children and grandkids. Communication was a mix of broken English, smattering of French and Tahitian, and lots of charades! In our many visits together, we exchanged small toys, candy, and school supplies for coconuts and fishing lessons on the reef using a harpoon, plus observing their free dives for octopus, shellfish, and crabs. Life is primitive, simple, and isolated, although some young adults move away to attend college.

A captivating day of snorkeling the Aquarium, located at one end of the motu, will not be forgotten. A slow-moving current wound us through tight valleys, passing coral forests of many shapes and colors, dazzling fish who swam up to our faces, and fat purple starfish with orange spikes. The experience transcended my imagination. I wanted to laugh out loud—not a smart idea underwater! While embraced in the ocean’s warm womb, I reflected on all the people God has gifted into our lives. Wonderful friends from home we are missing; cruising friends that share this unique period of time with us; new friends from diverse cultures who teach us so much about the world and ourselves. The places we have visited are remarkable, but the charming, generous people we have met are truly what the journey is all about.

The Cruiser’s Life

Cruising, where we meet new friends
Potluck parties are the trend
Awaiting letters old friends send
Oh, it’s the cruiser’s life for me

Snorkel, cycling, watch the whales
Music jams and hike the trails
Up the anchor, raise the sails
Oh, it’s the cruiser’s life for me





 




 

Winds whisper legends through narrow valleys;
Shadows glide along jungle-clad hillsides;
Shades of green climb steep slopes to volcanic spires.
The "Yosemite" of Polynesia, where harmonious voices
drift across the bay, lulling one to sleep.

Cook’s Bay, Moorea—The 10-mile passage across Sea of the Moon delivered us from the chaos of Papeete in Tahiti to this blue-green lagoon where only nine sailboats lay at anchor. Snorkeling the reef by the pass refreshed us after a morning of chores and projects. Neon angel and parrot fish zigzagged among the purple and pink coral garden. We floated within its silence.

Next day a “supposedly” easy hike morphed into a 4-1/2 hour expedition. We clambered up and slid along a twisting, muddy mountain trail, dwarfed by humongous ferns and moss-coated tree trunks, using banyan roots for steps and handrails. Red dabs of paint sporadically marked the path, more imagination than reality. The great adventure terminated in the tiny town of Vaiare where coconut ice cream cooled our sweat-soaked bodies. We were blessed to catch a ride back to the boat on Le Truck, the local bus.

One day we rowed ashore bringing fold-up mountain bikes. Fragrant frangipani, white tiare bushes, and multi-colored hibiscus lined the paved road along the island’s perimeter. Guava, mango, and coconut palms grew amidst the splendor around every curve. The cerulean sky provided a backdrop for craggy peaks and tranquil bays. Wandering the grounds of a resort, we discovered a “Yellow Submarine”! It was used for tourist excursions around the reefs for those adverse to getting wet. Enjoyed a dolphin show, but empathized with these playful mammals held captive instead of swimming free in their beautiful ocean, just yards away.

Belvedere Lookout, on one of our final days, presented an enchanting view of Cook’s and Opunohu bays, both encircled by lush mountains on three sides. The hike was 14-kilometers, but partially-paved streets graced us with a gradual ascent, plus a kind islander drove us a short portion.

On Moorea, as at most previous stops in French Polynesia, we are continually greeted with “Ia Orana” or “Bonjour” by friendly locals. Life is simple and slow on this Society Island, tempting us to linger a few more days or weeks. But there are more islands to explore and a limited time before hurricane season hits. Also, Polynesian melodies rising from the church remind us that La Fete is drawing near. The 14-day holiday celebrates Bastille Day. People gather from all over French Polynesia for singing and dancing competitions. Our plan is to be in Bora Bora for the festivities.

I glimpsed a small slice of heaven on earth while in Moorea. Yet our heavenly home will be so much more—beyond our limited imaginations. In the meantime, I hope each of you discovers your own piece of paradise here, while awaiting our eternal home…where the true adventure begins.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. Revelations 21:1-2