It's cow night or pitch dark, as the English say. You can't see your hand in front of your eyes. Suddenly the wind was there. 23 knots, fortunately from the south-east. We were heading in the right direction. Not always a matter of course, as the weather often forces us to take a detour. At first I think it's another one of the squalls that have been visiting us for two days now, almost every hour. But the rain doesn't come this time and the wind doesn't die down after half an hour as usual, but remains stable so that we make good progress.
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| We make distance |
We left Apia on Samoa early in the morning the day before. Obviously the weather models in this region are having a hard time, because no matter which one, none of them are right. The expected 10 knots turned out to be 20 knots and the forecast rain showers turned into continuous rain. The squalls are holding the door open, so to speak. The Katinka Enjoy seems to like the weather, she gets off to a good start and we keep seeing the nine at speed over the ground. So far everything is fine, if it weren't for the wetness that creeps under my clothes while I'm standing at the helm. Towards evening, the interval slowly eases. During the breaks there is almost no wind. The lights of the island of Savai'i, the larger of the two Samoan islands, peel through the haze. At the north-eastern tip, we turned west and set course for Wallis. Towards morning, the island lies astern. A few stars can be seen in the sky and the morning is clear, the sun is even shining. But this condition does not last long. New clouds approach from the northwest. It doesn't take long and the clothes are wet again. Ultimately, it is the squalls that are pushing us forward at this point. In between there is always a lull. Yesterday we had the rest of the pasta in tomato sauce, today we're having veal soup and then a tuna sandwich. It has become cold, although we are complaining at a high level. At 26°C, some people in Germany would be thinking about heat prophylaxis, but here in the South Pacific, close to the equator, it's cold. Anyway, I've got my Frisian mink out and am bravely standing my ground at the helm.
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| Frisian mink in the tropics |
As already mentioned, the squalls subside in the second night and the easterly wind, with a good portion from the south, sets in. In the morning we are still 40 nautical miles south-east of Wallis. Now the math starts. Low water is at 13:21. That's the ideal time to enter the pass. Unfortunately we don't make it. At least we have incoming water. So the current pulls us in. If the wind keeps up like this, we'll be at the pass at 16:00. Just in time to sail in and look for an anchorage. We'll clear in the next day, if we can even find someone to clear us in on Saturday. But we'll see about that. Until then, the Q-flag will stay up. Wallis belongs to France, so that shouldn't be a big problem for us Europeans. Now it's time to get the 40 nautical miles behind us as quickly as possible. The sooner we reach the pass, the better. Unfortunately, the wind has shifted back a little to the east and I have to make up some ground. Even 30 miles from Wallis there is still no land to be seen and the cloud cover is increasing again. But who said it was easy? Just before we reach the 20-mile zone, Wallis appears in front of us. Another four hours to go.
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| Land in sight, Fortuna and Wallis |
We reach the pass about two hours after low tide and one hour after slack time. Slack time is the time when the current in the pass is almost zero. After low tide, the water starts to run back into the lagoon and the current builds up towards the lagoon, peaks in the middle and then slowly recedes. When high tide is reached, the water continues to flow until slack time is finally reached again. Now the water flows out of the lagoon into the open sea and the current builds up in the opposite direction. So if you want to enter the lagoon, it is best to use the rising water; if you want to leave the lagoon, use the outgoing water. In the Honikulu Pass, the main pass in Wallis, the current can be up to six knots. We enter the pass at a current of two knots and get through without any problems. Our first impression of Wallis is phenomenal. The motus on the outer reef are overgrown with palm trees and lots of greenery. Every now and then you see a small hut. Outrigger boats paddle against the waves. Wallis does not have a calm lagoon.
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| Motu in Wallis |
The wind is blowing strongly from the east and there are only a few sheltered spots. We reach the main town of Mata Utu shortly before dusk and anchor at 14 meters. The yellow quarantine flag is hoisted. We are curious to see if we can clear in tomorrow. After all, it's the weekend and not too many yachts arrive in Valais. We'll see and report in the next blog. Until then, fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip.
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