Feb. 6, 2000 / Dawn--A Squally First Day at Sea

Source: Sam Low

The winds, having been on vacation from Tahitian waters for almost two month, returned--with fireworks.

Yesterday after an emotional farewell ceremony, Hokule'a raised anchor early in the afternoon and passed through the reef at 2 p.m. While we were still close to the island, the winds were gentle--5-10 knots. As we released the tow line and were raising our sails, a bolt of lighting struck through the clouds at a low peak over Tautira. A few seconds later we were all jolted by a sharp crash of thunder and some crew members reported feeling an eletrical charge in their hands while they were coiling the halyards.

As Tahiti begins to drop lower on the horizon, the wind accelerates and swells pucker the ocean, passing under the canoe. Hokule'a leans against her lee hull and plunges forward--her responses slowed by the heavy load she is carrying.

All around the darkening horizon, too far away to hear thunder, lighting illuminates tight knots of clouds--squalls moving from east to west in the trade wind flow.

Nainoa divides the crew in half--five hours on watch and five hours off, to allow the maximum number of people on watch--a standard procedure in squally weather. The crew has to close up the sails when a squall approaches to prevent wind damage to the rig or the canoe.

Squalls assemble to the east and rush toward us. We take in sail and roll in the troughs of waves, opening our sails again when the squalls has passed. The night is moonless and dark, concealing approaching squalls. We have to listen for them, watch carefully when the horizon is momentarily illuminated by lightning.

A little before midnight, Nainoa orders all sails brailed up and the jib taken down. A few moments later, we are shaken by 40-50 knot gusts driving rain and horizontal strata of water across Hokule'a's deck. A few waves crash aboard. Hokule'a shakes them off.

One such squall hits in the evening watch, another in the morning. By sunset the crew has been forced to close sails at least a dozen time. "If we hadn't closed the sails in time when the big squalls came through, we would be in some difficulty," says Nainoa.

At dawn, Shantell and Ka'iulani meet with Nainoa to report on the navgation: 72 miles from Tahiti. 52 miles to Makatea. "We should see Makatea in about 8 hours. After that, perhaps Mataiva." Nainoa reponds: "We have to be careful about approaching Mataiva. We can't see it at night, so figure your sail plan accordingly."

It's been an uncomfortable first night at sea. But everyone on the crew is doing well, working together wonderfully. We are looking forward to better weather today as we sail toward Makatea, a raised atoll between Tahiti and Rangiroa.