Friday 21 December
Photo Note - Banaba Island
It was actually late Wednesday afternoon when we sighted Banaba-Ocean Island 12 NM off our starboard bow, a small low isle, too far away to make out much detail in the drizzle, but exciting to see all the same. (Doesn't take much to excite us out here!). Depsite its low profile above sea level, it is actually a 4000 metre high mountain sitting on the sea bed. As with all land, it then seems to take forever to 'get past' it, and the currents and seas appeared to be affected for quite some time. As we laboured past Banaba, the usual late afternoon thunderstorms had been building, along with the swell. The rain squalls we had been cheekily surfing and darting away from ganged up on us, and there was no possibility of avoiding the storms gathering at our heels. Night descended, with a nasty large purple blackness looming over half the horizon.

By this stage of a passage, lack of decent uninterrupted sleep is starting to catch up with the crew (even Marco!) and knowing we will soon be in port , all we wanted for an early Xmas pressie was a few more nights of moon lit sailing, with the boat humming along to the swishing sound of the miles slipping past the keel. Santa obviously didn't get our letter, as Wednesday night rapidly turned into one of those that makes you wonder why you sail.

The black clouds caught us, out came the wet weather gear and tethers. Several rain squalls preceded the main storm, and even when that passed, the weather pattern had changed - settling into 15-25k winds, gusting to 30, constant rain and intermittent downpours. The sea state became way too uncomfortable for the off watch to get any sleep (aka me and you all know how ugly I get when overtired!), and making a simple cup of milo earned Tone several new bruises (and not from me!). By midnight we were both dripping wet and cold, and just a teensy bit 'over it'.

Enter the Examiner, of course! Three bright lights loomed just over the horizon. Previously, similar lights had turned out to be fishing trawlers, often with no AIS system, or not using it if they have, so they didn't show up on our warning system, and they don't answer call ups on the VHF radio. Shortly after spotting them they disappeared behind another curtain of rain. Earlier that evening, when we had decided to track a rain shower, we discovered the radar had stopped working, some connection probably loosened by the headsail in a sloppy tack or perhaps, just like us, tired. So the radar wasn't going to help us keep an eye on their whereabouts in the dismal conditions. We got the boat settled, and she zoomed along in the strong winds.

Optimistically, Skip Tone went below to shut his eyes. He had barely been asleep an hour when one of the trawlers emerged dead ahead out of the driving rain, her multitude of bright lights and accompanying dories looking more like an NT road train than a vessel in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. At first I could see a red port light, then a green starboard light, and then both lights coming straight for us. Unbelievably, the wind dropped, and because we were well reefed to cope with 25-30k winds we suddenly stopped. With less than a mile between us and the trawler, we had no boat speed, no steerage, and no idea what they were up to. Several futile calls on the radio went unanswered, they must all be hauling the nets or cleaning fish, the way the trawler was going round and round in circles, there must be someone on the bridge, or maybe not! It was 4.30 am, so maybe they were all asleep, unlike us. Reluctantly I called Tone on deck for a second opinion, indicating that now might be a good time to turn on the engine. He agreed, and long story short, we turned away (and much to our chagrin, off our course, NO VMG!). IM's iron topsail chugged us slowly and safely past the trawler, still seemingly oblivious to our presence, despite our radio calls and repeated lighting of our sails with white torches. As dawn broke, blearily sipping our tea, the other two trawlers motored into view - heading back to what must have been the mother or possibly processing ship.

After motoring most of Thursday morning the breeze picked up again and we hauled out some more cloth and shook out the reefs, thinking we would sail across the equator. We were both a bit tired and the thunderstorms were still lurking - the joys of tropical sailing. I had chilled some wine, and it looked like we would be passing 'over the line' around 2 ish, a respectable time to be having a wee sip we thought. This is our second time over the equator but we still wanted to mark it appropriately. Sadly the weather gods had different ideas, and 10 minutes or so before the magic 00.00.00 figures on the GPS, another small squall sprang up... and our attention turned back to hauling the headsail in a few turns, reefing down again, and getting anything that didn't like being wet (ie the kindle etc) down below. So....no photos of us crossing the equator, and it wasn't till later that day we could even toast King Neptune. Tone did share some of his beer with him however, pouring a generous amount over the gunnels into the choppy slate blue waters.

Thankfully Thursday night passed much more serenely, with a steady 10kts from the southwest, veering round to the north, which we are still enjoying this morning, with an overcast, but not raining, sky. We are less than 80 miles south west of Tarawa, and both GPS are predicting an early Saturday morning arrival.... (!!) We can scarcely believe it.... this time tomorrow we may be at anchor! As with any arrival, the first few days are busy clearing customs, quarantine and immigration, but we will let you know as soon as we can that all is well.

Keep enjoying those Xmas parties, Cheers Andy and Tony