We are supposed to be leaving Tonga at first light according to the customs official. Fat chance. Mike decides he wants to listen to the morning broadcast of the Cruisers’ Net at 8.30 am and then has to go to an ATM to get some money as all the checking-in procedures in Fiji seem to demand cash for something or other on arrival. In the end it’s about 10.30 am before we actually leave.
Some of the boats that were leaving today have decided not to as the weather forecast is predicting higher winds and seas than of late, but nothing looks ominous, so we head out behind Brown Eyed Girl. Lady Liza and Eowyn are somewhere ahead of them.
We get both the genoas out but have them reefed in as the wind is gusting up to 28 knots even before we have left the shelter of the islands. In the distance I spot a fishing boat and tell Mike it is there, altering our course to avoid it as we get closer. All of a sudden I spot a fishing buoy right on our starboard side – it was impossible to see before as we are heading straight into the sun. The engines are on but in neutral so we think we have got away with it then we see this stationery marker start to follow the boat and realise that its line is tangled around one or both of our propellers. By this time the fishermen are waving at us to get us to take evasive action, as they don’t realise it’s already too late for that.
Cursing like mad (unusual for him), Mike watches the line to see which prop it is caught around. It seems to be the port one so he switches on the starboard engine and turns the boat into the wind so we can furl the genoas. The fishermen approach in their boat, pulling themselves closer using the line. We apologise and they apologise. Then Mike goes down on the steps (not easy as the boat is thrashing around a bit) and cuts the line. We still have tons of it attached to us but at least we are not attached to the fishing boat any more.
It’s obviously far too rough out at sea for Mike to go under water and deal with the remaining rope which is now streaming behind the boat, so we head back into Tongan waters and go to the first sheltered anchorage we find, but with only one engine and a strong headwind, this takes us over an hour.
We put the anchor down in a nice sandy patch but as we drift backwards letting more chain down, the sea bed becomes strewn with rocks and coral – not good. Mike snorkels down and after a few goes comes up with about twenty feet of thick nylon rope which has been curled around our port propeller. He then goes to check the anchor and finds that the chain has got caught under a huge rock. Great! Here we go again. I let down another twenty feet or so of chain – if we can get some slack, Mike can dive down and pull it out from under the rock – but as quick as I let it down, the wind blows us backwards and the slack is taken out. Mike can’t shift it with the boat’s weight against him. He decides to find another place to anchor and swims around looking for a suitable place to re-set the anchor – if we can get it up!
He comes back on board and puts the engines on, moving the boat forward as I pull the chain up. Suddenly we pitch forward and the windlass slips. Christ! We are stuck – again – and not a WARC boat in sight. I put the hook on to save putting additional strain on the windlass and we have another go. The line attached to the hook stretches about eight inches, about a sixth of its total length, but holds, and we pitch forward again. Mike drives the boat diagonally to the anchor (luckily the water is so clear we can see it), and with a jerk, we come free. I quickly pull the chain up before it, or the anchor can become caught again, then lower it in the new spot.
Although it’s only lunchtime, Mike is so pissed off that he feels like going nowhere, and after something to eat and a couple of beers, we go below for a sleep.
Maybe we’ll get further tomorrow!
In the evening we are watching TV when a moth of the hugest and hairiest proportions I have ever seen flies in and flaps around in front of the screen, just two feet away from me. I am absolutely terrified of moths (and butterflies for that matter – they are just pretty moths) and have no hesitation in getting someone else to kill them if they are anywhere near me. Give me a horrid spider any day - at least they just scuttle - but moths fly and might get in my hair. I’m not quite sure what I think they are going to do there but the thought sends all reason straight out of my head. I shut the computer screen down as the light seems to be attracting it and it immediately flops down and lands between my sarong and thigh! This is just too much and I leap up screaming and slapping my legs, run down the stairs and shut myself in one of the cabins.
From my position of safety I can hear banging around upstairs then the sound of spraying. I stick my head out to see the monster being taken out and thrown overboard. We settle down again to watch TV and within minutes there are another two monsters in the room and within seconds I’m back down in the cabin. One lands in the frying pan and Mike slams the lid on him, ready to be taken outside, but the other one refuses to die even when sprayed and hit with a shoe. Eventually he does give up the ghost and we settle down once more, this time with the doors and hatches firmly shut. I’d prefer to sweat (still no a/c) than have those things around. When I go to bed I find moth dust all over my side of the sheets, evidence of it’s battle with Mike. Ugh!! At least at sea there are no moths!
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