S/Y FARRFLY Log extracts May /June 2011.
Where were we... Oh yes our intrepid travelers had high tailed it out o’ Hiva Po, at dawn, into the teeth of a gale, bound for the atoll Makemo, 450 miles South West in the Tuamotus.
Well it is true that Team Farrfly never saw Makemo or anywhere near it. And given that you are reading this on the Blogsite thing, and not in the newspapers is a sure sign that they made it somewhere.
When a sailor is in a hurry, Murphy, of Murphy’s Law school of fame, always travels with him. And indeed, so it was on this ill fated little journey. It should have taken Farrfly 60 hours to get to Makemo, especially as the wind was up and blowing hard. However this is where we can rely on Mr Murphy to become involved... Needless to say 6 hours out of Hiva Po the wind increased to 40 knots and swung around to the South West, right on our nose forcing Farrfly to turn West. As the howling hours thundered on, the wind went even further South and with it our good little ship was forced even further West. Progress was slow and hard, everything had to be lashed down as Farrfly pounded on. Night fell in, with no let up in the wind... By dawn we were as far off course as we were on course.. The wind eased to 35 knots .. still a gale, but would not shift back to the East. So what to do?
Tack and bash our way back to Makemo.. oh no... a much easier sailing tactic is to simply change the plan; to Mr Murphy’s plan. A few minutes studying the chart and it seemed that Mr Murphy was taking us to an atoll called Fakarava. So having long ago learned to never ever disagree with Murphy, we cracked the sheets and merrily headed for some place called Fakarava.... 150 miles West of our original target!!
Well as it turns out Murphy was right... Fakarava is simply stunning, so stunning we are still here... well that is not strictly true. Yes, as I write this on 24 July we are in Fakarava.
We decided to come back. As it turns out Fakarava is a UNESCO protected diving site.
More about all that later.
Now it has to be said a lot of time and much ado has occurred since we were battered and blown here at the end of May.
The curious reader will ask why in the hell did Farrfly leave Hiva Po in a gale in the first place? Another obvious question that comes to mind; ‘Why did our gallant heros not know the wind was going to shift south? After all, the good little ship is crackling with the latest weather forecasting satellite technology?‘
The answer is quite simple; we didn’t even look at it, as it didn’t matter. We HAD to move on. Having dilly dallied around for weeks we were suddenly in a bit of a hurry. Regardless of the weather one DC had a rather important meeting that had unexpectedly been rescheduled for the 13th of June. The other problem; the meeting/delivery room was over 10,000 miles away....
Two days resting up in Fakarava was an opportunity to do a couple of scuba dives. The local dive shop specializes in Nitrox diving. Tony and I did the Nitrox class and exams etc and got our Nitrox diving certificates. We then went to the South pass for two Nitrox dives and this opened a veritable pandoras box... However we will tell you all about it when we get to Tetamanu Village for the 2ad time.... Tetamanu is an abandoned colonial village at the South pass. If you ever decide to simply drop out of society, Tetamanu is your spot.
So pressing the fast forward button, the good ship Farrfly is bound for Rangoria, a simple over night sail... Mr Murphy decided to come with us, and the evening was marked by a strange event; absolute stillness, not a breath of wind. The Pacific Ocean went a flat as a pond. We wove our way thru atolls under a bright moon and a sea so still everything reflected in it like a mirror. Two moons and twice as many stars. Trying to make out the horizon was interesting, well truth be told it was impossible. In the impossible stillness the sky and the sea simply merged into one. Which naturally reminds us that, at this very moment as you read this, you and I are in outer space, hurtling around the universe in our little blue capsule planet at 36,000 miles per hour.
Rangoria is very nice but after Fakarava the world will seem a dull spot. However in Rangoria we met up with our old buddies aboard Trifon. Carl always has fantastic tales of woe and accidents galore. So off to dinner we all went. A nice restaurant on the beach, where all was perfect (except the food). Many tall tales later, after Carl inveigled us with his latest mishaps, the happy crews headed back to their boats... Or so we thought, 10 minutes later one of the group was flat on their face completely unconscious.
Well it wasn’t me... nor any of the Farrfly crew.
While walking over to the two dinghies we noticed, under the moon light, two large Manta Rays asleep on the edge of a boat slip. Carl decided to take a really close look, so off he went and waded down the slip. Unfortunately a slip is an aptly named item, for it was as slippy as wet ice. The feet went out from under Carl quicker than you could blink and he came down full force onto the concrete with the side of his head; out cold. To make matters worse his face was now in 3 inches of water. We cupped his head and gently pulled him up the slip just far enough that he could breathe. The ambulance came very quickly and were well prepared for head/neck injuries. Thrust and bound to a special stretcher, Carl was whisked off to hospital.. The diagnosis; a cracked skull.
Epilogue; I met Carl again last week and he is fine. He is back on board Trifon and seems none the worse for the experience. In fact he looked remarkably well.
However during the melee that ensued after Carls fall, your errant scribe, in his attempt to pull Carl clear of the water, also slipped, straight down onto the concrete; coccyx first. Ouch! And the night before a 36 hour flight.
So it is here where the story and the ship part company for a little while. Having indulged in Nitrox training, the author was once again pressed for time, so it was high time to take to the air. Airplanes go somewhat faster than sail boats. A quick flight from Rangoria to Tahiti soon put the unexpected schedule back on track. An easy nip to LA, followed by a hop to Paris, then a skip over to Dusseldorf, and finally a jump to Graz in Austria, had me in the delivery room before the expecting mother and the unexpected little one.
I arrived at Samina’s family holiday home with a couple of days in hand. It is an hour out of Graz which is also where Conrad was born. The family had decamped there from Vienna some weeks earlier. Everyone was in good form. The warming summer made the wait a bit of fun as Conrad, the man of the sea, became a little farmer.
Right on cue, at noon on 13th June 2011, Charlotte Clementine Oceane Cullen sailed easily into this world. At 3.3kg and 54cm, she is long and lean like her mum. And just like her mum is the apple of my eye. Here are a couple of pics of the team.
Next update, following my hop,skip and jump back to Tahiti... it is back to Tetamanu Village and the highly unlikely scary shark story... with photos galore which is always more interesting than reading me mumbling.
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