The ocean has moods, and as sailors it is our job to anticipate them. We can choose to sit quietly during one of her calm periods, we can argue and ride out a bad mood with our anchor set, or we can run and try to get away from her when we know she’s going to be angry about something.
We would have liked to ride out her next bad mood at anchor in Suwarrow, but the ten-day forecast was showing us that she was going to stay pissed for a while. Our forecasts only go out ten days, and we had no idea how long we could expect it to go on beyond that. We’d only find out one day at a time. Would she eventually calm down again?
Looking at the maps we had three to four days sailing ahead of us to American Samoa. If we left now we’d have good wind one day, no wind the next day, and on day three we’d be riding right along the edge of a bad mood.
As much as I’d like to live like Tom Neale for a while here on Suwarrow, with an indefinitely long strong winds forecast, we decided it would be better to get out and run.
We spent one last afternoon walking around the island, exploring the short trail across to the ocean side where I’m sure the caretakers have spent many hours watching the sea boil around them.
The caretaker’s home in the middle of the island.
The open-air main floor was the kitchen/dining/living room combo. I presume upstairs was the bedroom. We dropped off some fruits and vegetables we had onboard, and were happy to find them smiling a few minutes later with orange juice dripping off of their chins.
They keep everything beautifully groomed and welcoming.
It’s no Lou Malnati’s, but our attempt at pizzas on the grill would have to do.
We were a little late for slack tide, and the seas were a mess through the pass, but we were soon out in open ocean and running downwind on the big swells again.
Light winds and following seas were nice, but storms were always lingering in the distance.
Day two we got the calm we’d been expecting. I don’t think most people realize just how incredibly calm the ocean can be at times. On shore it almost always looks so rough and relentless, but out here it isn’t uncommon to see it go flat as glass.
Day three her mood changed, though. We knew it would, we just didn’t know how angry she would get. Forecast was for twenty knots, which we hoped would mean twenty-five max. Instead, we got thirty to thirty-five with gusts to forty-two. Fortunately, wind and waves were at about 120 degrees, so we weren’t beating, but it was still a pretty wild ride. Conditions stayed like that for the twenty-four hours it took us to finish our ride into Pago Pago. We flew the main with three reefs set, and unfurled just a tiny triangle of jib up front. We surfed along at 7-10 knots throughout the day and night.
We surfed past the Manu’a islands a few hours before dark on night three. We passed close enough for the seas to go flat while we sailed across the lee, before they cranked right back up again on the other side.
It’s always impossible to show sea conditions in photos, but at this point they were ten to twelve feet. We’d sink down into the trough and watch the next wall approaching. As it is happening it seems impossible that the boat won’t simply be smashed by the wave as it breaks over you. Instead, time after time after time after time, the boat is lifted up the face of the wave, rides over the crest, and then we watch as it breaks on the other side beyond us while we slip downhill into the next trough.
We surfed into Pago Pago harbor well after midnight. We inched inside the well-lit harbor towards the anchorage, but the wind was howling and it was hard to make out which boats were at anchor and which were on moorings. In addition, the holding here is notoriously sketchy, and we didn’t want to run into any problems in the dark, tired as we were. So, we motored back out into the wide harbor opening and I sent Ali down to get some sleep. The kids had gone to sleep hours earlier. I would have liked to simply put the boat in neutral and float there until morning, but the wind and the swell were still roaring right in. If I put the boat in neutral it immediately sat sideways to the waves, rolled and smacked, and made a bunch of noise that would keep everyone awake. Instead, I just motored as slowly as possible into the waves, did a one-eighty and rode back again. Each lap took about twenty minutes. Ali managed to get a little sleep and then I asked her to sit up with me to be sure I didn’t fall asleep standing up (I didn’t dare sit down). An accidental five-minute cat nap would have put us on the reef.
The sky finally lightened up, we motored into the bay, anchored, and then watched the sun try to peek through the clouds and up over the mountains.
17 Comments on “Moods”
Well hello from Bend, Oregon, 4800 nautical miles away.
I loved this. Made me feel like being at sea.
And then the deep bliss of being able to drop off to sleep at anchor, finally. Ahh.
Thank you!
Greetings from Auckland, 2100 NM away! Thanks for the great story telling, made me feel I was at sea with you while safe in our holiday rental here-LOL! Glad your passage went well despite the moody seas! Such a wonderful example for your kids to carry on thru the storms! Smooth sailing!
So glad you’re able to relax after those tough days and nights. I could feel myself getting seasick as you described the up and down. How did Lowe do? Perhaps he’s over his seasickness now. Enjoy the calm!!
Brilliant!!
Hello from Canada.
Safe travels friends.
WOW…I can’t imagine the exhaustion…wild ride this time. Stay safe and fair winds!
Great story – great photos – WOW!
The Tree of Life – So much of that tree is edible, even sprouted coconuts. When the sprout isn’t too tall, there is a tasty, airy, edible and nutritional treat, with a texture that reminds me of a sponge. 🙂
Great seamanship. You did good. Kudos.
You got balls Pat! Love reading your adventures. I live vicariously through you. Press on mate! Been following you since the first time around. Your writing style makes me feel like im there!
You’re right that photos do not show how big waves are at sea. Glad you made it without too much worry.
After the new hound in the house destroyed my bifocals and Roku remote, this is exactly what I needed in terms of perspective.
First world problem here.
Love the sea yarns, especially the wild and stormy ones. :). That navionics track speaks volumes. Glad ya’all are snugged up now!
Hmmm I like the calmer ones myself. 🙂
Good to see the sign post we made in 2018 is still up, but missing half the original cities. Cheers from Beach Flea (Bend, Oregon)
That’s awesome! https://beachfleas.com/?page_id=9
Sounds incredible, and as for some of the past comments, I agree you have a gift for putting your readers right with you so we feel each wave as it crashes down around us, stay safe!
Gorgeous island pictures.
Kisses and hugs to all of you ❤️🥰❤️