[When we returned from our annual Vanuatu expedition last October I promised to provide details of a harrowing 24-hr period (Friday, August 13th, 2004 !) in which we may have come closer to losing “Rivendel II” not once but twice than ever before. While in the Sangalai anchorage of Vanuatu’s small Maskelyne island group (see attached map image) the weather starts to change. Sangalai is essentially a 500 ft wide, 60 ft deep hole with clay-type bottom in Uliveo’s razor-sharp fringing reefs. Surrounding land spits offer wave protection, leaving a narrow, coral-studded entrance open to the South. Inside that entrance no printed or electronic chart information exists that provides details about the shape of the fringing reef or the location of the many bommies. Over the years we have come to know this anchorage fairly well, but because its depth does not provide us with more than 3:1 scope for our 43 lb Bruce with 200 ft chain rode, we prefer not to overnight here. In the morning of August 11th the skies darken and it starts to rain, soon changing into a torrential downpour. The SSE wind picks up to about 15-20 knot and by the time we have taken care of business on land and slalom our dinghy through the bommies back to the boat Nelleke and I realize that we will no no longer be able to leave the anchorage through the narrow opening, now wild with high waves. In addition to a minimal scope, we are also handicapped by a rusty anchor chain that should have been replaced at the beginning of the season. However, the 40ft container with the project supplies, including Rivendel’s new chain, has been delayed for nearly 2 months. As the wind increases to the upper twenties more waves start rolling into the anchorage. Since I have little illusion that our anchor set-up can hold in anything over 30 knots we decide to stand anchor watches throughout the night. The next day wind and rain hardly abate thereby pretty much marooning us on Rivendel. We also run out of propane (same story: new bottle in the container) so Nelleke cannot cook or heat anything. During the day we call Allan Meyer, skipper of the Project MARC schooner “Siome”, and ask for a weather forecast update (our SSB radio has shorted out during the downpour the night before, but we have a few minutes left on our Iridium satellite phone). Allan, anchored in Port Vila approx. 100 NM SSE of us, reports a normal forecast of 15-20 knot SE trade winds. In the early evening of the 12th (in Vanuatu it gets quickly dark at around six) the SSE winds increase to a steady 30 knots, then 35, then 40. However, the barometer never falls below 1010 mbar (from its daily high of around 2025). Apparently, we are being clobbered by a narrow trough in the high pressure system that must have escaped detection by the New Zealand forecasters. I wake up Nelleke at 2 am. It is time to get ready, the wind is now in the 40s, gusting to 50 and there are big whitecaps in the anchorage. If the anchor breaks out or the chain snaps our chances of holding Rivendel on station for more than a few minutes in the center of this coral trap, in zero visibility with only radar and GPS images to guide us, are very small because of fatigue. We both get dressed with layers of clothes and put on our scuba dive booties in case we have to walk across the fringing reef and Nelleke prepares a bag with our passports and ship's papers. At three a.m. Allan calls: an unexpexted storm, he says, is hitting Port Vila and “Siome”. plus a handful of other vessels, have had to abandon their anchorages in big Mele Bay in order to seek shelter on moorings behind Iririki island. At first light the winds taper off to about 25-30 knots and I decide to try and dinghy our second bow anchor out (a 27lb Fortress on a 300 ft, 5/8 braided nylon rode with a 25 ft chain leader) since our stern appears to have come some 20 ft or so closer to the reef, suggessting that the Bruce must have been dragging slowly. A few hours later we decide we don’t want to stay trapped in this anchorage for yet another night. We need to get out of here as soon as possible. So, when the wind drops into the lower twenties I get into the dinghy and pull the Fortress in; made very heavy by nearly 4 inches of adhering clay. Then we slowly motor up to take the tension of the chain rode and pull the Bruce in with the windlass and immediately start our escape through the narrow passage between the reefs intending to “just motor around the fringing reef” and tie up to the Project MARC mooring in the shelter of neighboring Sakao island, our favorite anchorage in the Maskelynes (see map image link). We are very tired after two nights of little sleep and in the process we make several big mistakes. The Bruce anchor is left hanging down over the bow as I hastily move back to the cockpit to assist Nelleke at the helm in following our Garmin 76 GPS track in reverse. We have not stowed things below properly and we are even towing our 11 ft RIB -- outboard engine mounted (sic!) -- behind us, which we never do since we do have davits. Moreover, neither Nelleke nor I are tethered down or even wearing lifevests for our little trip around the island. Roughly following our last incoming GPS track we try to give the double or triple row of big breaking waves lining the massive fringing reef on starboard a wide enough berth. Just when we think we are almost ready to round the outer edge of the reef and coast down the west side of the island with the wind in our backs out a big wave suddenly rises up on our port side and breaks over its full length, strongly heeling us over and pushing us uncontrollably towards the reef while ripping both dinghy painters off and carrying the dinghy away. By the time I am able to turn the bow into the foaming mass and gun the engine we are much closer to the reef and effectively trapped in its surfzone. Rivendel II meets the next breaking wave head on and we see our bow rise as if trying to re-enact the poster picture of “The Perfect Storm”. The mass of white and green water coming over the bow would have cleanly swept us both out of the cockpit if not for the new hard dodger. Even with the engine at full blast we are only doing 1.5 knots through the water against waves and wind and I have little illusion that we are making any progress over the ground. In the trough between that wave and the next one I think I also feel us hitting a rock……. Only meters away from the reef we have only one chance: over the noise of wind and waves I shout to Nelleke to pull the staysail out. Fortunately, she is able to do so immediately. The small sail fills in the 25+ knot wind and by the time the third and fourth breaking wave hit us head on we are making 3.5 knots! Rivendel starts to slowly pull away; one more breaking wave and we are free of the pandemonium surrounding us and the reef’s death-grip. Within 1 hour we reach the calm Sakao anchorage. Our sweet Vanuatu friends immediately come to help us, as we now have no dinghy to go ashore. They come with their canoes and help us call the only telephone on Uliveo with our Iridium phone and ask the people to look out for our dinghy. Kalo brings us a fresh-baked loaf of bread and in the storage room of our clinic there is a full bottle of gas.... We first sit down to thank the Lord for saving our lives. We look at each other thinking exactly the same thing: by His grace only do we live and work here.... Several hours later we are stunned to see our lost dinghy being motored into the anchorage. Three men from Peskarus village are triumphantly waving; they have found our dinghy, the engine still runs, and all the loose items in the dinghy have been retrieved, not even one thing is missing.... The only damage is a small hole in the right forward air chamber. Nelleke bakes eggs and makes hot coffee, followed by a stiff drink. Then we both sleep around the clock. Flying Dutchman PS: Some of the mistakes we made that day have already been mentioned. Probably the biggest mistake was to let ourselves become caught up in a “just motoring around the corner” mindset that ignored the temporary exposure to the long fetch of the ocean (see map image). This 1,000+ mile fetch can of course produce exceptionally large waves that break further away from the reef, especially following gale conditions. HM
The main downside may be the difficulty in finding proper insurance...... Henk