Breaking down the proper way

When we left French Polynesia we had anywhere between a single overnight sail to thirteen-plus nights. There is 1300 miles between us and our next major destination of Tonga. How long we would be at sea was fully dependent on the weather from day to day. No forecast could be trusted 13 days out, so we planned our route to pass by numerous safe anchorages which we could run to to avoid foul weather if it poke its head out. These are denoted as pins on the map below, and span four separate countries – which meant Kerri had to prepare entry paperwork for three of them ahead of time; the Cook Islands, Niue, and Tonga.

We were always unsure we could make the last leg, between Niue and Tonga, as an awful sea state from the south was forecast. It would also prevent us from going to Niue – a country/island we heard so many great things about – as the swell would roll right through the unprotected anchorage. We would monitor the weather during the three days it would take us to get to safe anchorage #2 and make up our minds to hold for weather or continue. Lastly, just before Niue is a small protected reef in the middle of the ocean which we would keep in our route as a safe anchorage if needed as well.

The passage started well with multiple days of good winds and a mellowing sea state. We did get impacted by a couple small squalls that brought with them some heavier winds and rain, but they each passed and let us be within a half hour. By our third day at sea things were going nicely, so as we approached Cook Island’s Aitutaki (safe spot #2) we chose to pass it as the forecast was looking great for another week to possibly make it all the way to Tonga before the next system approached, but barely.

More days of great sailing ensued with nothingof note really happening but for one instance of two boats trying to occupy the same 30 feet of water in the thousands of miles of open ocean in the middle of the night. Even though we were the stand-on vessel (should not alter course, they should), and we made radio contact with them 15 minutes prior, Kerri had to panic-avoid a fellow cruising boat in the final moments before impact. This was the only boat we would be within canon range of for the full 9 day sail and somehow we would nearly collide! 48 hours later Meriwether and this boat would cross paths within spitting distance of each other again. However, this time we would be the give-way boat, so we did just that with miles and miles to spare, ensuring we didn’t even get within visual range (about 5 miles) of the other cruisers. Five miles is an acceptable distance to pass another boat in the middle of an ocean. Kerri is still traumatized.

Days more passed and all was smooth. We were approaching our final safe anchorage deep into our 8th full day at sea, 950+ miles since we left French Polynesia. I was on watch while Kerri was getting some rest during the afternoon. I heard a sound that I’ve never heard before, making me pause for a moment to look around. Nothing. A few seconds later the auto pilot made a correction on our course. Then another. Then another. Meriwether was not responding even through the wheel was being turned more and more to the starboard. I moved to behind the wheel, disabled the autopilot, took control of the wheel, and knew it immediately – our steering cable just broke.

I yelled down to Kerri for the emergency tiller and she quickly handed it up the companionway. We have prepared for this very moment. It is the worst fear from any boater – losing steering – although being hundreds of miles from any land makes this a little less hectic. The boat rounded up into the wind all on her own, coming to a gentle stop while the tiller was installed and we returned to our passage. We were quite lucky in the timing of this major mechanic issue as we were only one and a half hours from that third and final safe anchorage that we had planned. So after that hour and a half of hand steering by tiller we arrived in Beveridge Reef in time for the sunset. With the anchor down, we settled in for our first night of sleeping together in over a week. The fixing of shit will begin tomorrow.

Completely submerged, Beveridge Reef has no land to set foot on. One has to get within a half mile of it to begin to see the breaking waves formed by the shallow underwater coral. The reef itself is roughly 4 miles by 2 miles, the tip of a cone extending from the sea-floor thousands of feet below to within a few feet of the surface of the ocean. It was amazing to just sit and ponder; this narrow pillar of land standing more than 13,000 feet tall and we would be dropping anchor at the tippy-top of it. Take the ocean away, and Meriwether would be balancing on the tip of a needle standing on end. I just couldn’t wrap me head around how it does not just topple over. Once inside and anchored, we had a 360 degree unobstructed view of the South Pacific Ocean. It looks as if we are literally anchored in the ocean itself, but without the 2-3 meter swell that gets mostly tamed by the reef surrounding us. You might think we would be completely alone out there, 900+ miles from French Polynesia and 300+ miles from Tonga, but as luck would have it there was one other boat at anchor when we arrived, and by the next day we had numerous others. They were hiding from the upcoming weather. We were both hiding and had repairs to make.

Said repairs turned out to be much easier than first thought. It was the very end of the steering cable that broke, so I snipped a bit off and created a new loop from fresh cable and a few spare cable clamps. Easy as pie, but for having to dig up the entire lazzarette and binnacle to get there. The only real issue was later that night when I thought to myself, “the other end of the cable could be on the brink too!” Kerri woke the next morning and immediately look at my with wide eyes and said, “the other end of the cable could be on the brink too!” So, the following day I did it all again to check the other side which ended up being perfectly fine. As you can see from pic #3, whoever installed our steering system did so by running the cable through a hole at the end of the chain. This is a sharp edge that, after who knows how long, inevitably cut through the cable. Why they did not run the cable around the cylindrical part of the chain link will keep me up at night for many years. Again, I want to stress just how lucky we were to have it fail 90 minutes from a safe anchorage. It could have happened at a much worse time, forcing us to hand steer by tiller for 48 hours without an autopilot – which requires the wheel and cables to function. But, the decision to route ourselves past these safe anchorages so the suffering is minimized when (not if) issues happen shows how smart sailors we have become over the years.

It is like he boat vomited into the cockpit

This could have take decades, but was inevitable

Why? Why not go around the link, not through?

There was a lot of socializing between boats and even a group snorkel day to both see the wreck and the reef itself. But, beyond those activities, Kerri and I spent a week just hanging out in the middle of an ocean with little to nothing to worry about. As a result of our breakdown, and week long stay, the foul sea state up at Niue would pass and we could now go there before Tonga. We were both very happy about that, as so many people said it was their favorite island in all the South Pacific.

This tack stayed in that exact place for 9 days at sea.

Kerri swims!