Clearing in Wallis is easy. As it's the weekend, customs is unmanned. The security officer for the port facility is kind enough to inform the national police, who arrive half an hour later and clear us in. However, we are told to go to customs on Monday. We are also not allowed to stay at the designated anchorage as an underwater cable has been laid and there have already been problems with sailors.
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| Waiting to clear in, Wallis |
Before we return to the boat, we want to do some shopping. There is a supermarket not far away on the map. We pass an impressive church built from basalt stones and head up the hill to the main road. The few people we meet are happy to see us and greet us. We find a well-stocked supermarket and a second one where we replenish our supplies.
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| Church in Wallis |
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| Meat counter in Wallis |
Unfortunately, we don't find a single restaurant that is still open after 2.00 pm. On the French-speaking island, it is difficult to communicate in another language. We are told that the restaurant reopens at 4 p.m., but they mean 6 p.m. We walk a few kilometers across the island in search of a suitable place to sit and have a drink. Another squall forces us to get down. We find a small church that was closed, but there is a bench under the canopy where we can wait out the rain shower. The last restaurant we head for is also closed. We decide to return to the boat and have a drink there. That's easier said than done. The dinghy has almost dried out at the quay wall. No chance of getting to the boat. We decide to go to the restaurant, which is supposed to open at 4 p.m., and wait for the tide. We find out from the restaurant's neighbor that the restaurant doesn't open until 6 pm. So we wait in the harbor until the water rises again. We can no longer go to the island where we are supposed to anchor as it is already too dark. A strong wind of up to 35 knots blows during the night and pulls hard on the anchor chain. We like the place where we are supposed to anchor even less than where we are now. As the circumstances don't suit us, we decide to clear out again on Monday and make our way to Tuvalu. So we go to customs on Monday. We clear in and out again at the same time. The national police are annoyed that we are still moored, but also clear us out. In the afternoon, with the water running out, we set off for Tuvalu.
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| Forbidden anchorage, Wallis |
The pass impresses again, but can also be mastered without any problems on the exit. Nevertheless, you have to be careful to stay in the middle of the fairway, which is relatively narrow. So you have to concentrate fully while the waves break to the left and right with a loud roar. We set course for Tuvalu and sail into the first night. We have 400 nautical miles ahead of us. As usual, the forecast easterly wind is coming from the south-east. However, there is one new feature: the strength of 15 to 18 knots is correct this time. However, the wave forecast is off again. The height and frequency are almost never right. During the night and on the first day, the weather remains calm and the sun shines for the most part. On the second night, the wind picks up to 22 to 25 knots and the first squalls appear again. This doesn't change the next day either. Some of the squalls were strong and announced themselves with winds of up to 35 knots.
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| Wall of clouds with a lot of rain, Tuvalu |
At times we surf down the wave at over 12 knots. The dishes in the lockers start to rattle. I take the genoa away, which doesn't help much. The main, now in the second reef, only slows us down marginally. On the third night, the wind picks up to 28 to 30 knots. That night we have a four-meter-high wave with a frequency of six seconds. Two of these waves enter the cockpit. In the squall, the top speed is 38 knots. So I have my hands full keeping the Katinka Enjoy on course. Weather like this doesn't just get on your nerves, it also takes its toll on the physical strength of a small crew. 60 miles off Tuvalu lies the small atoll of Pepesala. I don't know what possessed me, but I decide to pass the island upwind in these conditions. A fatal mistake. The island lies abeam. The wind is coming from the south-east at 28 knots. It's dark and the squalls are invisible. The wind hits my face with the first drops of water. I'm cold, I'm totally exhausted and the waves, which are far too high, have been beating against the bridge deck all day. The whole boat is shaking. The wind suddenly shifts to the north-east and rises to 32 knots. The catamaran's speed drops from 7 knots to 1.5 knots and pushes us onto the reef. I change course, but don't have much leeway because of the island in question. At least I manage to increase the speed to 2.5 knots, which keeps the boat on a stable course. We just shave the north-eastern tip and I can run off the rest of the squall.
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| After Squall is before Squall |
So what were the mistakes? Well, the biggest one was passing the island upwind instead of downwind. The idea of switching on the radar to localize the position of the rain cells didn't even occur to me. And the last thing that occurred to me was to use the engine to help us once we had passed the island. What do we learn from this? Struggling with a situation that you can't change anyway is not a good way to approach a situation. Stay focused and adapt to the situation. Weigh up your options and recall your experiences. Use all technical means at your disposal. Train your mental strength. I, at least, learned a lot again that night.
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| Anchorage Tuvalu |
Towards morning, the wind drops back to 10 to 15 knots. Seven miles off Tuvalu, the atoll of Funafuti appears in front of us. We reach the southern pass at slack time. The main island is called Fongafale. Here we drop anchor in front of the settlement of Vaiaku. Happy to have arrived in Tuvalu, we fall into a deep sleep that night. We'll tell you all about our experiences in Tuvalu in the next blog. Until then, fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip.
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