Cocos II
Cocos II
August 7
Cocos: Thursday
While I was on Home Island today, the wind finally eased.
It blew hard all last night, awakening me at 3:30 a.m. and I never really got back to sleep. The row in at 7:00 a.m. was in 23 knots. I wore my bathing suit and packed my computer in a waterproof bag inside my knapsack, which I sealed in a plastic trash bag. However I didn’t get as wet as yesterday. The tide was still rising, and when I turned east five yards off the shore, it helped carry me to windward until I passed under the jetty and tied to the same palm tree as yesterday.
I changed into the shorts and t-shirt in my knapsack, then sat in a chair placed near one of the picnic tables and read until the ferry came. It was very pleasant under palm trees sheltered from the wind, looking out at the lagoon, listening to water lapping the shore. Other than an errant rooster, I had the island to myself.
The crews of two other boats also rode the ferry to Home Island, which took less than ten minutes.
The Internet connection was good, and I was able to post to the website and email Carol and reply to those who had written me since I was last online.
The “Supermarket”, wasn’t, but I didn’t expect it to be. However I did expect it to sell wine and spirits. Those liquids are only available at West Island, where the airport is located and another 150 lucky drunks, er, people live. And essentially you can’t get there from here. So I am about to make a dry run to Durban. Other than a few cans of beer, the liquor locker is almost empty. About 1” of rum in one bottle; and perhaps 2” of gin in another. A record breaking run to Durban may be in the offing.
I did manage to buy apples, cookies, crackers, dried fruit, cheese, and cans of soft drinks.
As soon as the small ferry boat entered the anchorage on the return run this afternoon, I knew the wind had become civilized. The row home was just a row, not a death defying circus act.
I turned on the instruments as soon as I was aboard. It was blowing 18 knots. The trend ever since has been from 18 to 20, only occasionally up to 22, and more frequently down to 16. The difference between 16 to 20 and 20 to 25 may not seem great, but it is. A whole different world.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll be able to start enjoying this place.
August 8
Cocos: Friday
I’m cleared to depart on Monday.
A boat came in this morning that was going to require clearance, and boats are requested to give two days notice before departure, so I called on the radio and told the police officer who acts for Customs and Immigration that I wanted to leave Monday morning. As I expected he said he would come by the boat when he was over here this morning.
I had thought of waiting for Tuesday, but am ready to go back to sea.
The wind has continued in the 17 and 18 knot range, except for a brief period when it was up to 23 before a rain shower this morning, and a brief period after the shower when it dropped below 10 for the first time this week. Still intermittently overcast. I’ll row ashore after a while and maybe go swimming. The policeman said the weather is supposed to be good this weekend. I’d like to check the prop and hull for growth before I sail.
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I didn’t go ashore today. I did my exercises and swam from the boat instead.
Although the wind was still blowing 18 knots and there was some chop, the water was beautiful. 78ºF/25.5Cº, and perfectly clear.
I swam forward to see the anchor. I didn’t see it, but where it is completely buried in the white sand.
From the way she has been sailing, I expected THE HAWKE OF TUONELA’s bottom to be clean, and it is. No hard growth, and only a few small patches of fuzzy weed that I brushed off with my hands. What was particularly interesting was that the prop and shaft, which I had the boat yard painter in Opua coat with a silicone substance five months ago, also had no hard growth. This was the first time I had this done, and it was well worth the $60 NZ.
I swam over to a patch of coral twenty yards away. A small shark, about half my size, was swimming leisurely below me. Many small fish, but mostly black.
Returning to THE HAWKE OF TUONELA, I had a fresh water shower from the solar bag.
Refreshed and clean.
I love being in the water. Look forward to snorkeling tomorrow and Sunday.
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Because I have no more ferries to catch and so no need to care about shore time, I’ve changed my watch from 6 ½ hours ahead of GMT to the true geographical time of 6 hours ahead of GMT.
August 9
Cocos: Saturday
Wind still around 18 knots, which is to be expected here at this time of year. Was over 20 for a while earlier.
I’ve checked all the bolts on the Monitor, and tightened one that I found loose. Also crawled into the stern, reachable only by easing over a half bulkhead, and tightened the bolts securing the base of the radar backstay mount, which I knew were loose.
Put some sealant on a few places on deck. Not taking a wave on deck since before Bali, I don’t know if I’ve accomplished anything with previous efforts to fix the leaks around the forward hatch and the port quarterberth. I expect I’ll find out between here and Africa.
I brought one of the bags of a month’s freeze dry meals from the stern and stowed them in the food locker near the galley.
At the moment I can’t think of anything else that needs to be done before Monday morning. One thing I know is that the anchor and chain will come up clean here.
Checked the pilot chart information, which I have in the computer in a program called Visual Passage Planner. It simply verified what I already knew. For the first three thousand miles we should have the wind aft at Force 5, 17-21 knots, or Force 6, 22-27 knots, The conditions which have compromised the pleasures of being here at anchor should give us good, fast sailing once we are back at sea.
As we approach Durban, the wind can come from any direction, the strong Agulhas current near shore will be pushing us southwest, and there is in September a 7% chance of gales, which is relatively high, but only drops slightly to 5% in October. Looked at another way, it means I have a better than 14 to 1 chance of not having a gale.
We will be moving from 12º South to 30º South Latitude, and 97º East to 31º East Longitude, and four time zones, from +6 GMT to +2 GMT.
3800 miles is a long passage, 800 miles farther than across the Atlantic Ocean, but by no means my longest. In EGREGIOUS I did passages of 20,000 miles, 7,000 miles, and 5,000 miles. Even in CHIDIOCK TICHBORNE, I did 4,000 miles non-stop from Singapore to Aden. In RESURGAM 4,000 from Panama to the Marquesas Islands twice, and 7,000 from New Zealand around Cape Horn to Uruguay. And in THE HAWKE OF TUONELA more then 5,000 from Cape Town to Fremantle. If I haven’t forgotten any others, that will make it ninth.
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I’ll go ashore sometime today to walk the trails to the west end of the island, hopefully find a good place to snorkel. I can’t imagine The Rip is possible in these conditions, and to fill my solar shower bag.
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Usually I have two drinks in the evening, but for the last three nights I’ve limited myself to one. The rum is gone anyway. Only a little gin remains.
Rowed to shore after lunch. Didn’t even think to take the anchor or radio. Wind around 16 knots. No whitecaps in the lagoon.
I filled the shower bag and a flexible water container that I know has a leak, but may hold water long enough to transfer to the shower bag. Then followed a trail to the west end of the island.
This led past a ruined quonset hut, a remnant, I think, of WWII, then to various lookout points on the north side of the island, before ending near the navigation light. Mostly the trail is a tunnel through the palm forest, deep in shadow. Thousands of coconuts lay on the ground. I saw only two or three trying to sprout. Too much shade and competition. The trail is mostly chips of coral and shell. Looking down at one point, I noticed the shells dancing and realized that there were tiny crabs inside. After that I walked carefully, trying not to step on them.
After rowing back to the boat, I read for a while, then went snorkeling. Took a brush with me and cleaned a few spots on the hull, then swam to a patch of coral fifty yards ahead of the boat. More fish of more colors there. Still not spectacular.
Back on the boat I had my second successive fresh water shower, then sat on deck. Clouds are thick to the south of us and rain is falling there.
August 10
Cocos: Sunday
Rain reached us last night after dark, and was intermittently hard enough for me to sleep with all the hatches and the companionway closed. The wind died away almost completely, and this morning is only around 10 knots.
Being on the eastern edge of the time zone, and having reset ship’s time to geographic time, first light here is just after 5:00 a.m. It’s 6:00 a.m. now and still mostly cloudy. Clearer to the northeast.
Not sure if I’ll row ashore. Perhaps if the wind stays light, I’ll check out The Rip. If not, I’ll swim off the boat, have another luxurious fresh water shower, and then dry and stow the dinghy.
In the absence of strong wine, it is very quiet.
(Just noticed the above, which is a Freudian typo. Meant to write ‘wind’. I think.)
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Middle of a very pleasant afternoon. Probably the nicest since I’ve been here. Still some clouds about, but sun shining. Dinghy drying on deck. Didn’t go ashore, though it would have been easy. Mentally I’ve already left this place.
Did my exercises for the second and last time this month. Were easy. Considering that exercises are a means, not an end, my life is itself keeping me fit at present.
A French boat left this morning that had only been here two days. I saw them raise a double reefed main as they headed out and noticed that they had their spinnaker pole in place. I thought that was rather ambitious; but then they set a small jib on the pole, planning to sail wing and wing. That, too, is ambitious, as it works only in a very limited range either side of dead downwind.
August 11
Cocos: Monday
Completely overcast this morning. Not quite 6:00 a.m., and I’ve been awake for an hour, though no reason to leave early. Wind is 12 to 14 knots, and we had a brief shower a few minutes ago.
I’ve already rearranged the cabin, and moved the provisions from the quarterberths forward to the v-berth, taken down the Australian courtesy flag, moved the tiller pilot and its remote control on deck, and am having my first cup of coffee.
Yesterday continued to be a lovely day. Despite the too strong wind for the first half of the week, I rate Cocos highly. The pass into the lagoon is wide; the anchorage is good and easy to reach; and you are off a picture perfect uninhabited atoll, with a few basic park facilities and some interesting trails. The water is clear, but I don’t think the snorkeling is particularly good, with the reservation that I didn’t ever try The Rip.
It is not my favorite anchorage in the world, but I can see how it might be some people’s. (Mine are off Moorea and Bora-Bora in French Polynesia, Lord Howe Island in the Tasman, and Whangamumu, New Zealand and, of course, several in the Bay of Islands.) But if you come this way, you should certainly stop at Cocos before it, and all the other atolls in the world that only rise 10’, disappear beneath rising seas.
Thursday, August 7, 2008 to Monday, August 11, 2008