Season's "Lest Best" Sail
"OK, we're freeee !!". Standing on Rivendel's bow I guide the small, barnacled float of the Project MARC mooring back into the shimmering blue waters off Sakao island in Vanuatu as Nelleke turns Rivendel's helm. She steers away from the fringing reef protecting our anchorage from the dominant SE swells and then sets course for the channel between the reefs. It is nearly 4:00 pm and we need to clear this achingly beautiful maze of razorsharp reefs and small volcanic islands known as "The Maskelynes", while there is still enough light. Dusk is only a fleeting moment here in the Tropics; once the sun sets, it gets dark in 20 minutes flat. With some apprehension, I notice the foamy white line of breakers on the distant barrier reef; after a week of unusual calms and light NE winds the SE trades are rapidly gaining strength again. Of course, we should have used that now closed weather window for our return trip to Port Vila (Efate island), nearly 100 miles SSE of here, where Rivendel II is scheduled to haul out at "Latitude 17 44 South", Laurent's small French yard, so we can fly home to the Utah Rocky Mountains next week. Instead, we have been immersed in construction issues for Coral Bay Clinic, our new medical training center on Sakao and have to make our getaway today. As Rivendel leaves the shelter of the Maskelyne islands, wind speeds rapidly increase to the typical 15-20 knots of the Trades here, occasionally gusting to 25 knots. Fortunately, the wind direction is now due East, allowing us to set course for Port Vila on long port tacks, alternated by short starboard tacks to reclaim lost Easting. Less fortunate is that the 6-8 ft swells have become quite steep and chaotic due to the recent change in wind direction and the relatively shallow banks bordering the Maskelyne islands towards the South. We soon feel tossed around in a giant washing machine and decide to make a long starboard tack to the Northeast in order to get away from the banks. Sailing close-hauled under second reef and staysail we are able to maintain SOGs of 5-6 knots until the wind starts gusting well into the thirties and VMG drops dramatically . On a dark, moonless night like this it is difficult for a helmsman to avoid being slammed and drenched by aberrant waves. Moreover, trying to use Windy, our otherwise trusty selfsteering system, only makes things worse since a windvane cannot sense variations in wave direction and shape. Faced with the prospect of a long and wet night of handsteering we head for the lee of Epi, a large island 10 miles East of our planned route. Besides permitting us to catch some ZZZzzzs, this will also let us gain precious Easting before throwing our glove into the ring again next morning. Towards midnight we approach Lamen Bay, one of the most visited bays in all of Vanuatu because of a friendly Dugong (sea cow) who likes to swim with yachties. Due to our focus on Project MARC clinic locations, we have never anchored in Lamen Bay before and therefore make a slow, controlled approach in the dark, using our radar, depth meter and GPS chart plotter. We tuck in under a prominent volcanic headland and drop the Bruce in 35 ft of relatively calm water, barely 100 yards away from a big fringing reef. I decide to keep anchor watch by sleeping in the cockpit and, while waking up at about 3 o'clock in the morning, am rewarded by a spectacular fiery red glow radiating from both active volcanoes on neighboring Ambrym island. After a restful night we enjoy one of Nelleke’s sinfully delicious breakfast in the cockpit while looking in vain for the island's most famous mammal. Once underway again, and out of Epi's lee, we are soon back in 15-25 knot Trades, piping up into the 20-30 knot range later that day. On her favorite point of sail and decked out in her best spread of rough weather sails (viz. staysail plus double reefed main) Rivendel II soon takes a big bone between her teeth and starts heading straight for home, acting as sure-footed and self-assured as if she were sailing on an inland lake. Although rogue waves still cause occasional slamming and drenching, our sail is now taking on a positively exciting and pleasant character. What threatened to be a tiresome last slog against the Trades is rapidly turning into the best sail of the entire season! “Lest, best”; as the shortest of old Dutch sayings will have it. Before I can wipe the grin of excitement produced by all that great upwind sailing off my face, I notice that Nelleke has caught the same bug! All of a sudden, I hear myself pray: "please, Lord don't make this so darn hard for us" (I was thinking of our plan to sail Rivendel II back to the USA next year and continue Project MARC with local cruising vessels). Soon, Nelleke and I are trying to convince each other that there need really be no hard deadline for Rivendel's planned return to the USA! Of course, we both know that the long sail home against the South Pacific and North Pacific Trades is notoriously demanding and that, if we wait too long, we might well become boxed in by health or age. For now, however, all that counts is that the howling in Rivendel's rigging sounds like music to our ears, that the strongly heeled deck feels rock-solid, that handsteering is no longer boring nor tiring and that the impatiently awaited final tack into Mele Bay is suddenly coming a lot sooner than we really want.... As Nelleke gets set to turn the helm while I grab the staysail sheets our eyes meet across the cockpit (“can we not simply sail on; we could raise Tanna in just two or three days !?"). Then the wheel spins and Nelleke's voice sings out. Rivendel II straightens up and rolls reluctantly onto her port side, her sheets tugging expectantly at my hands. Together, the three of us happily sail into Port Vila harbor.
"OK, we're freeee !!". Standing on Rivendel's bow I guide the small, barnacled float of the Project MARC mooring back into the shimmering blue waters off Sakao island in Vanuatu as Nelleke turns Rivendel's helm. She steers away from the fringing reef protecting our anchorage from the dominant SE swells and then sets course for the channel between the reefs. It is nearly 4:00 pm and we need to clear this achingly beautiful maze of razorsharp reefs and small volcanic islands known as "The Maskelynes", while there is still enough light. Dusk is only a fleeting moment here in the Tropics; once the sun sets, it gets dark in 20 minutes flat. With some apprehension, I notice the foamy white line of breakers on the distant barrier reef; after a week of unusual calms and light NE winds the SE trades are rapidly gaining strength again. Of course, we should have used that now closed weather window for our return trip to Port Vila (Efate island), nearly 100 miles SSE of here, where Rivendel II is scheduled to haul out at "Latitude 17 44 South", Laurent's small French yard, so we can fly home to the Utah Rocky Mountains next week. Instead, we have been immersed in construction issues for Coral Bay Clinic, our new medical training center on Sakao and have to make our getaway today. As Rivendel leaves the shelter of the Maskelyne islands, wind speeds rapidly increase to the typical 15-20 knots of the Trades here, occasionally gusting to 25 knots. Fortunately, the wind direction is now due East, allowing us to set course for Port Vila on long port tacks, alternated by short starboard tacks to reclaim lost Easting. Less fortunate is that the 6-8 ft swells have become quite steep and chaotic due to the recent change in wind direction and the relatively shallow banks bordering the Maskelyne islands towards the South. We soon feel tossed around in a giant washing machine and decide to make a long starboard tack to the Northeast in order to get away from the banks. Sailing close-hauled under second reef and staysail we are able to maintain SOGs of 5-6 knots until the wind starts gusting well into the thirties and VMG drops dramatically . On a dark, moonless night like this it is difficult for a helmsman to avoid being slammed and drenched by aberrant waves. Moreover, trying to use Windy, our otherwise trusty selfsteering system, only makes things worse since a windvane cannot sense variations in wave direction and shape. Faced with the prospect of a long and wet night of handsteering we head for the lee of Epi, a large island 10 miles East of our planned route. Besides permitting us to catch some ZZZzzzs, this will also let us gain precious Easting before throwing our glove into the ring again next morning. Towards midnight we approach Lamen Bay, one of the most visited bays in all of Vanuatu because of a friendly Dugong (sea cow) who likes to swim with yachties. Due to our focus on Project MARC clinic locations, we have never anchored in Lamen Bay before and therefore make a slow, controlled approach in the dark, using our radar, depth meter and GPS chart plotter. We tuck in under a prominent volcanic headland and drop the Bruce in 35 ft of relatively calm water, barely 100 yards away from a big fringing reef. I decide to keep anchor watch by sleeping in the cockpit and, while waking up at about 3 o'clock in the morning, am rewarded by a spectacular fiery red glow radiating from both active volcanoes on neighboring Ambrym island. After a restful night we enjoy one of Nelleke’s sinfully delicious breakfast in the cockpit while looking in vain for the island's most famous mammal. Once underway again, and out of Epi's lee, we are soon back in 15-25 knot Trades, piping up into the 20-30 knot range later that day. On her favorite point of sail and decked out in her best spread of rough weather sails (viz. staysail plus double reefed main) Rivendel II soon takes a big bone between her teeth and starts heading straight for home, acting as sure-footed and self-assured as if she were sailing on an inland lake. Although rogue waves still cause occasional slamming and drenching, our sail is now taking on a positively exciting and pleasant character. What threatened to be a tiresome last slog against the Trades is rapidly turning into the best sail of the entire season! “Lest, best”; as the shortest of old Dutch sayings will have it. Before I can wipe the grin of excitement produced by all that great upwind sailing off my face, I notice that Nelleke has caught the same bug! All of a sudden, I hear myself pray: "please, Lord don't make this so darn hard for us" (I was thinking of our plan to sail Rivendel II back to the USA next year and continue Project MARC with local cruising vessels). Soon, Nelleke and I are trying to convince each other that there need really be no hard deadline for Rivendel's planned return to the USA! Of course, we both know that the long sail home against the South Pacific and North Pacific Trades is notoriously demanding and that, if we wait too long, we might well become boxed in by health or age. For now, however, all that counts is that the howling in Rivendel's rigging sounds like music to our ears, that the strongly heeled deck feels rock-solid, that handsteering is no longer boring nor tiring and that the impatiently awaited final tack into Mele Bay is suddenly coming a lot sooner than we really want.... As Nelleke gets set to turn the helm while I grab the staysail sheets our eyes meet across the cockpit (“can we not simply sail on; we could raise Tanna in just two or three days !?"). Then the wheel spins and Nelleke's voice sings out. Rivendel II straightens up and rolls reluctantly onto her port side, her sheets tugging expectantly at my hands. Together, the three of us happily sail into Port Vila harbor.
