Twenty-one knots of wind directly on the nose. Without a headset, communication is clearly disrupted. Gaby at the anchor winch and me at the helm. If we hadn't known each other for 25 years, a maneuver like this wouldn't work. But we love it classic. Even behind the windshield, the spray keeps blowing in my face. Scraps of words that could mean anything reach my ears. Usually broken down into syllables by the howling wind, thin and meaningless. Only the hand signals give me an idea of which direction to turn the catamaran. The anchor comes up out of the murky gray water and, as expected, it is full of black mud. “Lower it again!” I shout to the front. Hanging the anchor just below the surface, we pick up speed. Port Control Pago Pago doesn't get back to us at four o'clock in the afternoon, so we assume that we were given permission to leave the anchorage yesterday when we cleared out. We pass the fish factory, which occasionally spreads a foul smell in the anchorage. Past fishing boats that nowadays fly over the fishing grounds by helicopter. Yes, catch quotas are declining, so you have to upgrade the technology. Past various supply ships, without which life on the islands would no longer be possible. Three things stick in our minds when we talk about American Samoa: The one dollar per person bus service, churches and the front yard burial grounds. And, of course, the friendly people here.
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| Bus connection in American Samoa |
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| We drive into the night, Samoa |
Outside, a three-meter-high wave awaits us. It rolls incessantly towards the coast and breaks with a huge white crest on the offshore reef. And we are right in the middle of it, not just in it. Katinka Enjoy climbs steeply uphill and then crashes into the wave trough with its 15 tons. Gaby can't stand weather like this at all and struggles with seasickness. There is another crash in the saloon and the fan has overcome the centrifugal force until gravity suddenly pulls it back down to the ground. Shortly afterwards, a glass and its contents break free and smash underneath the cockpit table. I try to bring the catamaran into a more or less bearable angle to the wave, but have to be careful not to get too close to the reef. For the first five nautical miles, this unpleasant wave knocks our brains out. Finally, we have gained enough space between us and the coast so that we can cut the wave a little, which helps us to glide over these mountains of water more badly than well. With the genoa, we are now making five knots through the water. It's twenty-five knots out here and the background noise is once again gigantic. But Gaby doesn't feel like talking anyway and, to be honest, we have our hands full trying to hold on anyway. On the south-west side of American Samoa, we then set course to the north-west and now have the wave from astern. The boat picks up speed once more and we speed off into the night under a full moon. Our destination is the neighboring island of Samoa. Formerly called Western Samoa and once a German colony, Samoa is now independent. However, this means we have to clear in again.
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| Full moon on Samoa |
Apart from the freighter and the helicopter that watched us for a while, the night was rather uneventful. Apart from the wave, which was once again far too short by Pacific standards, we had a good crossing. Well, perhaps I should mention the crossing of the International Date Line. We set off on Tuesday and it took us two days to cover the 80 nautical miles. Not really, but somehow it did. Wednesday was simply canceled for us. Tuesday turned into Thursday at midnight. There was no Wednesday for us this week. I don't know if that's because of the brain we knocked out. In any case, we reach the north-east corner of Samoa at seven o'clock on Thursday morning and an hour later we enter the port of Apia. Port Control instructs us to anchor in the harbor basin and wait for clearance. The first to arrive are Port Control itself and the health inspector. Port Control instructs me to take the dinghy to the marina pontoon to collect customs. Two ladies and a young man in black combat boots board our boat. The surface looks like a truck bed after five years of use. But what can you do? There are two other yachts in the harbor basin. Due to the lack of a vehicle, my dinghy is quickly converted into a cab boat. I can't look that fast as I drive back and forth between the boats. In the meantime, biosecurity has arrived at the marina. “Please pick up Ralf,” says the lady from customs. So I head back into the marina and then check all the boats in the harbor basin. Finally, immigration comes and takes our passports and boat papers. We can pick them up in the city tomorrow and are then officially cleared in. I also drive the gentleman from immigration back again after he has inspected all the boats. After four hours, the hassle is over and all the tension is gone. The marina has no space for us today, but tomorrow a boat will be leaving the marina, which will give us the opportunity to get ashore more easily.
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| Church in Apia, Samoa |
We are looking forward to Samoa and are excited to see what differences there are to the American island. One thing already seems clear: the people are just as cheerful as on American Samoa, which we really like. I'll tell you all about our experiences on Samoa in the next blog. Until then, fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip and for me good night's sleep.
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