For those who don't know about the Louisiade Archipelago or where it is - it is described as a string of islands that trail off about 200 km south-east of Papua New Guinea (PNG). It includes 10 volcanic islands fringed by coral reefs, and 90 smaller coral islands stretching over more than 160 kilometres. The Archipelago forms part of the eastern Milne Bay Province of PNG and is spread over an ocean area of 26,000 square kilometres between the Solomon and Coral Seas.
Trip Over
Wednesday afternoon, 5th September 2018, after nearly six weeks of completing our lengthy to-do-lists we were ready to head off. Feeling exhausted, none of us was looking forward to three or four days and nights out on the ocean first up. But finally, we were off, along with Dave and Selina onboard Lady Quintessa.
We started our 500-nautical mile passage across the Coral Sea. The water was like a millpond with barely a placid ripple on the surface, fracturing the sunlight into a patchwork of reflected colours. As much as this was alluring, it also meant there wasn't enough wind to move the boat along. So, we kept motoring out through Grafton Passage to avoid spending our whole trip floating in the ocean like a cork.
By sunrise the next morning we were with full sail in a 15-knot easterly wind, moving along nicely. During the day the wind began to increase, followed by a growing swell. We had been advised to stay east of the rhumb line due to the westerly current which pushes you off course from the passage. However, staying on this close reach meant the easterly swell was hitting us hard, but we were still moving along okay.
On the second day, the trade winds from the southeast picked up to 20 - 25 knots on the starboard beam. The ocean began taking up its cue from the wind, whipping up two to three-metre waves crested with white foam, that delivered saline tongues of blue across the cockpit. Now, we started to feel like a cork in a washing machine! Going downstairs to the loo was a battle, with a seat that slid sideways, while bracing for the very hard reach we were on. Trying to reheat our precooked food on the stove with a full tilt was arduous, but Terry managed somehow. Lady Quintessa was getting water inside through the vents, wetting its forward berth; cushions and the like. Needing to go inside to try and block the vents, didn't help Dave and Selina with their seasickness. Actually, for the very first time on any trip, Terry said he had felt nauseous, which is really saying something about the state of the sea.
After the battles of the day with doses of seasick tablets and trying to stay awake on the graveyard shift from 1 pm to 6 am, was very hard. Even though the water was spraying over the deck with the gunnels nearly in the water, you feel tired, extremely tired. There are only so many times you can clutch on for dear life to look out, but I did. Then, all of a sudden, I see in the distance an orange mass. Having a closer look, I can't figure it out; is that a container ship lit up? Forget trying to look through binoculars; you haven't any free hands as you are hanging on grimly with both. I stare at the orange and red mass for a few more times; it's getting brighter. It looks like a boat on fire on the horizon although I can't see any vessel on the AIS on the chart, nor was anything coming up on the radar. Forget feeling sorry for myself. Hell, there was a ship on fire. There were bigger problems than the pain of my body bruises from being bashed around downstairs like a ping pong ball or feeling quite queasy. I had to wake Terry up. After I woke him, he comes up and looks out. We both see the red blood orange tip of the moon's crescent on the horizon....oops sorry Terry! Had a good laugh. Disaster averted! (It really did look like a ship on fire I swear)!
On Sunday morning we see land, Duchateau Island Group. However, we were apprehensive about the position of the passage. The paper charts indicate there could be variances of up to half a nautical mile, which is somewhat daunting when you are about to go through a coral laced channel! We kept a careful lookout and made it through. Yes! Dropped anchor and looked forward to a good sleep after three nights of four to six-hour shifts. Nope - it rolled all night. In the morning we upped anchor to motor in the pouring rain over to Panasia.