"Hey Fred! Did you get a Commander's weather report?"
"Yea! I talked to them this morning. It looks like were a GO for tomorrow." Fred, the captain of Ogopogo had called the weather routing service earlier that morning. Fred's a conservative sailor who doesn't like to stress his boat. Fred's careful. I like this about Fred.
"What are the conditions like?" I was nervous. After the rudder failure, my confidence in Adventure was compromised. I was damaged psychologically. I wanted to motor to New Zealand in 3 knots of wind.
"Oh! It looks good. There's a low pressure system that'll put the wind right behind us. We'll get blown all the way into New Zealand."
I didn't like it. He mentioned wind. "How much wind?"
"Oh! He said something about 35-40 knots." Fred said this glibly - like it was something we sailed in every day. Whenever there's lots of wind sailors react the same way. "It's not the wind," they say, "It's the waves that scare me." Well unfortunately with one, comes the other. I could see my long motor fantasy dissolving before my eyes.
I tried to put on a brave face.

"Forty knots! Are you crazy?!" I felt the blood drain out of my face. I convinced Fred to hold off a day so that we could see if the low pressure system would really develop.


The next morning 16 of the 19 boats at Minerva were leaving. Fred had called the Commander Weather service again and the same forecast was given. We should only see a max of 14 seas though. Since everyone else was jumping off the bridge, we thought we should too. We began the process of weighing anchor only to find that our chain had wrapped itself around a coral head. Maybe this was a sign that we shouldn't leave. Even Adventure is afraid to go.

I jumped in the water and Kathy and I redirected Adventure around the coral head as everyone began to leave. It took about 30 minutes, but we were able to get free. We were on our way - 800 miles to Opua.

As we exited the reef we raised Adventure's full main and put out the genoa. We were ready to do some serious sailing. The faster we went the sooner we'd get there. We chose to pound into the sea as opposed to following the wind and after 4 hours we were in the lead. It's not a race, I told myself, but we're WINNING!

That night we double reefed the main. We then discovered that our genoa roller furling was sticking again. We struggled to pull it in even though the winds were light. We decided to keep it in and pulled the stay sail instead.

We had an uneventful night. It had been a good first day.

Day 2
We were passed by 3 boats during the night. Our double reefed main and stay sail had really slowed our progress. We were still making 5-6 knots, though, so we left things as they were. It's not a race. Through out the day, the wind shifted around to our stern. We were holding a direct course to Opua and making good progress. There was slight hitch, though, the weather was getting worse. Chatter on the SSB nets, full of weather news stated that the low pressure system was building strength. There was another low behind it. The high pressure system that we were in was getting compressed and more wind was coming.

Day 3:
We tune into a morning SSB net that has all of the boats checking in. Distance is developing between the boats now. Boats without SSB radios start falling out of VHF range.

We hear a report that Commanders is stating that we heave to at 29S 175E for two days. TWO DAYS! That's a long time to sit out in the ocean and do nothing. We have a family meeting. Kathy and I agree to head for the new coordinates. Tara and Casey complain that it isn't fair and that I didn't do a proper job getting a weather forecast. Some boats are ignoring the suggestion and the girls think we should follow suit. We triple reef the main and take in the stay sail. Adventure slows to 3.2 knots and have an easy night. Casey and I watch a movie: Thoroughly Modern Millie (We're down to the bottom of the pile now).

Day 4:
I decide that it's time to get my own weather forecast. I send Commanders a request for weather. It states the following:

wind gusts to 50-55 kts are possible near any squalls. Once the cold front passes you between 12utc Monday and 00utc Tuesday,winds shift into the W and decrease to 15-25 kts. There may be little difference in the forecast if you were to heave to around 29s and then you may have to deal with developing moderate to strong SW to S headwinds (18-28 kts) mid week. There may be a secondary cold front that approaches NZ from the SW late Tuesday.

Kathy and I read this and were quite frustrated. We'd spent the entire night going slow only to find out that there was no way to avoid high winds. We were going to get hit no matter what. We pull out some sail and started moving towards our goal. The wind was 20-25 knots now and the seas were already building. We were doing 5-8 knots as we surf down swells. It's a rough day.

We tell the girls the bad news. Casey takes it the worst. "Mom! I don't think we're looking at all our options here."
"What other options are there Casey?"
"Mom!" Casey says quite seriously, "I think we should call the New Zealand Air Force, sink the boat, and fly to New Zealand."

As I overhear Casey I can't help but think that she's on to something. Kathy assures Casey that she's wrong.

At this point I feel if I'm on some prolonged roller coaster ride. The feeling I get as I'm being pulled up to the top of the hill. The feeling that you've made some huge mistake and there's no getting off. Only instead of it being a 2 minute ride, it's going to take 2 more days. There's nowhere to run.

Day 5:
We're getting close to the front now. We got a new Commander report. Wind predictions were now 40-45 knots with gusts up to 50. I felt my throat close. It was hard to breathe. I go to our books and start reading about heavy weather sailing. We have several options: heaving to, lying ahull, or running off. Based on the fact that Adventure is a light displacement production boat, we decide that running off (running dead down wind with the seas behind us) is our best strategy. If we get going too fast, we'll deploy a drogue.

Kathy and I grab the drogue and start reading the instructions:

"So! You want to deploy a drogue? Well, before we get to that remember... Survival is a state of mind...

The next two pages are about having a surviving attitude. There's more text about having the right attitude than instructions on how to deploy the drogue. We basically tie it to a long rope with some chain at the end and hope for the best. We decided that this is a last resort option.

I grab the girls for some refreshers on how to use the EPIRB and SSB radio.
"Girls! Can you come here? I think we should have a refresher on how to use the EPIRB."
Tara erupts! "Why Dad! Why do we need to know how to use the EPIRB?"
Casey jumps in, "Yeah! You said we'd be okay Dad! I don't think we need to know this Dad."
"I just thought that it would be good to refresh ourselves-"
"Dad! You said we be okay. And now you're freaking us out Dad!" Tara yells in near hysterics.
"Tara! We should always be prepared for the worst case scenario."
Casey jumps in again, "Dad! Why won't you do the EPIRB. What do we have to use it for? You said we'd be all right!"
Kathy jumps in, "Sean! You're freaking the kids out. As Captain you're supposed to keep things in order. See there! Tara's crying now."
"I just wanted to show everyone how to use the EPIRB."
"Dad! You're freaking us out!"

I give up and walk away. It's clear that everything is up to me at this point. My heart sinks. What have I gotten my family in to? This is big boy stuff. I begin to understand how captains snap under these conditions. There's a massive guilt feeling. I dismiss it quickly. It's not helpful. I decide to do my best and leave the rest up to God.

I try to keep a happy face on during the net. I take over the evening net to keep track of the boats ahead and behind us. This is very difficult to do in rolling seas. Casey helps me with the lats and longs of each boat. We're in the middle of the pack now. This is where I want to be in case something goes wrong.

Day 5:
The seas smooth out some. The winds calm a little. It's Sunday now and we're on a collision course with destiny (I'm being sappy now!). Weather is being constantly discussed now. Everyone has an opinion and it's clear to Kathy and me that each individual hears and sees only what they want to see. We're all in denial.

We start listening to Des from Opua offshore. Des is old and sounds like a very terse Yoda.
"What is your position?" he asks in a shaky voice. We hear another boat check in with their position. Des answers, "30 tonight, 35-40 tomorrow." That's it! Des is on to the next boat. That's all you get from Des. At least it's not a lot of dribble about the weather. He just tells you straight - you're going to die and there's nothing anyone can do about it.

I email Commanders again. I keep hoping for the following: "Yeah Adventure! If you just move north � degree in latitude, you'll miss the whole thing." It doesn't happen. Commanders send me the following:

Grib files suggest winds to 30-40 kts, but I do think there could be squalls up to 50-60 kts for a time, most likely between 03-15 utc. With the strong NE to N flow, there will be big sea, but will be from behind you.

At 2:00 am Kathy realizes that the diamond from her wedding ring is missing. I take this as a bad omen. Kathy reminds me that we don't believe in omens. She searches everywhere for the diamond to no avail. I realize that I'm massively depressed.

Day 6:
It's the day of the bomb is going to hit. Kathy and I have taken all sails down. We've turned on the motor and our plan is to run with the seas. We will use the motor for any extra power, if we need it.

Kathy finds her diamond. It was in her pocket. "You know I thoroughly checked my pockets last night," she says. "God put it back in my pocket." I take this as a good omen even though I don't believe in omens.

We get encouraging words from fellow boats ahead of us. They've decided that the low is being pushed south and is going to miss us. I'm cautiously optimistic. I figured we're going to get hit no matter what. My buoyweather forecast for the day:

11/24 7am NNE 28 21 - 29 NE 7sec 10 - 15
11/24 1pm NNE 18 23 - 31 NE 7sec 11 - 17
11/24 7pm NNE 17 22 - 30 NE 7sec 11 - 17

24hr position forecast for : -34.09S 174.12E
-------------------------------------------------------
WIND SEAS
dir/deg range(kt) dir/per range(ft)
------------------ -------------------
11/25 1am NNW 346 24 - 33 N 9sec 15 - 23
11/25 7am WSW 244 10 - 14 N 9sec 13 - 20

I know we're going to have some big seas. Nigel Calder's cruising handbook states:

Many modern boat designs will get rolled over by breaking waves with a height that is just 40% of the boat's length overall. No boat designs survived breaking waves with a height of 55% of the boat's length overall.

Kathy and I break out the foul weather gear. We reposition everything we can and prepare for the oncoming storm. I think about some of the boats behind us. They're smaller boats than us. We're all on our own. I try to psyche myself up but it's difficult. I tell myself that I have my Captain Nemo beard, and my superhero boots on. I haven't bathed in 6 days. I am INVINCIBLE. Kathy's quite, Casey and Tara are scared and are not afraid to show it. I need some testosterone right now - someone to yell, "Yeah! Let's do this! Let's get it DONE!"

5:45 pm - we finish the net. The weather is starting to pick up. We have 25-30 knots. The engine is running well.

6:30 pm - Our racor fuel filter guage is showing red. There's pressure building in the system. I suspect that there's some junk in the fuel and the filters getting clogged. "That's why we have two racor filters," I tell myself. I switch to another fuel filter. The gauge does not change. I don't understand why. The engine is still running smoothly. I decided to let it go.

7:30 pm - The engine begins to overheat. It doesn't sound right. It sounds like there's something wrong in the exhaust system. We decide to kill the engine and deploy our stay sail.

8:00 pm - The storm hits! We can see a squall approaching from behind. It's moving fast. The seas are easily 17 feet at this point. We have to run with the seas. The wind is 35 knots now and the dodger is shaking up and down. The wind is howling and loud. The autopilot is screaming to keep the boat on track. The swells are breaking around us for 30 seconds, or more. I'm afraid to look back at the swells now. They're too big. We're hitting 11 knots as we surf down the swells.

11:00 pm - A swell breaks over the back of the boat and swaps me. Kathy and I are sitting in the back and getting rained on. We hold hands like Thema and Louise. (I'm not sure which one I am.) The squalls keep appearing on the radar. They're moving at 15 knots and taking a long time to get over us because we're moving so fast.

1:00 am - We're tired. The swells are at their maximum height now. I suspect that they're 17 - 23 feet at 7 seconds. We have 42 knots behind us and Adventure reaches a top speed of 13.6 knots. I want to take the stay sail down and run with bare poles. Kathy objects. We think that the worst is almost over. We just need to hold on for a couple more hours.

Kathy decides to get out of the rain and goes inside. She sits on the steps just inside the saloon. I watch the squall on the radar and micro-manage the autopilot. "You're doing great little guy." The autopilot is screaming as it keeps Adventure on track. Adventure looks as if I'm trying to do a dinghy landing on some gigantic surf.

I sit down and get hit by a swell that breaks over the back of the boat. A rogue hits the starboard quarter panel and I feel the entire boat vibrate.

"BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP!" The autopilot alarms goes off indicating a loss of steerage. I jump up ready to take control and steer. I keep thinking, "I can't steer in this!" The autopilot quickly regains control. I take a long breath and sit back down.

3:00 am - We had determined that 3:00 am was the point when the storm should being to subside - its not. The wind is still blowing at 30 -35 knots and another squall is coming. I decide that we have to get the stay sail down. Having it up is driving us off course. We're 30 miles off course now. We won't be able to make it in by the next day if it keeps up. Kathy comes up and we pull it in very carefully. We don't want to rip the sail to shreds.

4:30 am - I tell Kathy that I need to lay down for 30 minutes. She's not happy. She doesn't want to be up there all alone. With the stay sail down our speed is much more manageable.

I lay down and begin to hear voices on the radio. Only there ain't no voices. I try to ignore them. Kathy wakes me up at 5:00 am. The wind is now at 14 knots. The storm has finally passed.

The major stresses are over. "We've made it!" I exclaim early in the morning. We home free!

Tara was first to respond, "Dad! You need to get a job in New Zealand quick. I need new clothes, a cell phone, and a computer."
Casey jumps in, "And a house, Dad - with a game room and, possibly, a pool."

Again, I feel the blood rush from all my limbs; my blood pressure rising...