Pacific Crossing to Tonga

Malua left French Polynesia after some difficulty with my crew member who did not want to leave Bora Bora.  I left her in the hands of the local Gendarme and set sail out into a very unsettled weather system.  I had no option but leave so off I went.  After two day the main engine started to give problems.  It was either water in the fuel or the fuel was contaminated.  The end result was I could run the engine to charge the batteries but not move the boat forward.  Not a big deal in a sailing boat however there was no wind so I just sat and waited.
Be careful for what you wish for.
On the third day out, at dusk, the wind started to rise.  By midnight I watched as the wind rose from right astern, first 20, OK put in one reef, then 25, OK put in the second reef and furl the genoa, then 35, well it cant go much higher.  The boat is no doing 8 to 10 knots down wind.  This is where singlehander lethargy sets in. You do nothing either because you are tired or you think it will get better.  When the wind was at 40 I decided to take the third reef in but did not move from my captains chair.  It was then the wind rose to 45 and then 47 and BANG the sail tore between the second and third reef points.
Now it was a question of taking the sail down.  I stepped up into the cockpit and started to move forward when a large wave washed all over the port side of the boat.  Time to clip onto the life lines, turn all the outside lights on and secure the sail.  Not a difficult job because Malua was still running before the wind and waves.  The autopilot handling the situation well.
When the sail was secure I only had a small furled staysail out and Malua was still doing 5 to 6 knots along the rhumb line to Tonga - 6 days away.
I slept well the rest of the night but by morning the seas from east of New Zealand had built to a massive 5 to 6 meters.  Thankfully quite ordered and pushing me in the right direction.
That afternoon while I was in the captains chair at the nav station the boat was slam
med over to the starboard side by a huge wave.  The doraid vent over the stove started to flood water and I found myself on my side underneath a waterfall of seawater coming through the closed companionway hatch. Before I realized what had happened Malua had righted herself and I was drenched through.
I set about getting rid of the water by sweeping it into the bilge.  Days later I was to find the batteries swimming in a sea of water in their purpose built battery compartment. There was water everywhere in the aft section of Malua. My quarterback was wet so was things and bed sheets. The final water damage would be revealed days later.
I then realized that there was something flapping in the cockpit.  I opened the companion way and looked out to find all the canvas from the bimini and weather cloths ripped to pieces.  The two fenders secured at the stern had gone.  The stern anchor tied to the lifeline was over the side attached to the boat at the end of the anchor chain.  The life recovery ring was trailing astern on its line.  All the sheets and lines kept in the cockpit and under the hard dodger we somewhere else.  It was a mess.
Luckily it was light so I set about retrieving the things trailing overboard and securing the other lines in their correct place.
I was to find out later that the engine fan vent located in the cockpit had been flooded along with the large cockpit locker containing the one outboard engine.  The other on the rail had had a good sea water submersion.

What could I do. Just run before the wind with only the small furled staysail to give me direction and drive. Five day later I was off the northern tip of Tonga hoping for a tow into the harbour by one of my friends.  You soon find out who your friends are.  I had to take a commercial tow and a mooring buoy in Niefu harbour.  Relieved that I had made it to a place where I could get the engine fixed and repair the sail. That is a story in itself.

More Atolls and More Danger

The rule on entering a pass into an atoll is to do so at one of the high or low water slack tides and to do so in calm weather and the sun high in the sky. An easy ask if one has a direct line to the weather gods but if you are cruising and in company with other yachts you do the best you can, prepare your boat for all eventualities and eyeball with good prudent judgement the best strategy.
Malua left our first atoll entrance which had a lot of hype about how difficult it was with ease. It was no more difficult than a ocean river bar in Australia. My confidence was up and the guide book stated that the northern entrance to Fakarava is "wide and straightforward.... the flow normally peaks at 3 knots" What is did not say was don't enter when there is a 22knot wind on the nose and against the incoming tide with heavy rain squalls. And that is exactly what I found including a short wave chop which stopped Malua normal 5 knot forward progress right in her tracks. We took a line on the centre of the pass let out the stay sail for stability and some extra help and entered the maelstrom of the pass. Malua rose to the waves but came crashing down to stop dead in the water, the inflowing current would take her a few feet forward and then Malua would gather herself and lurch forward to again be stopped in her track by another set of waves. I turned the bows a few degrees off the wind and our speed increased. We where making progress but bang, bang the swim ladder had come loose and was swinging in the stern water. Grab the boat hook and secure that and when I turned again to look where we where, we are in relatively calm water making 5 knots. Through our second pass.
Now to do the pass on the falling tide. I calculated that the tide would turn at about 8 am in the morning. Just enough time to go ashore to get a few hot bagettes and to still make it at the slack water.
Great plan and I did find the slack water, almost no wind and definitely no rain and standing waves. What a dream to pass out the entrance and into the open sea. I had planned a 60 nm passage to Apitake which would be spread ove a full day and night so I could arrive at it's entrance at the low slack. I pulled up the main and set the genoa and soon I was cruising along at more than 7 knots. The plan was not working for I would have to lay ahull all night and behind me in the near distance the storm and rain clouds where gathering. OK what is plan B. I was to pass Toau atoll which has a false pass in its north. The pass at Amyoto states " the pass can be entered and left at any stage of the tide" I also knew that there are secure mooring buoys which one can pick up. It didn't take me long to calculate that I could make the anchorage well before dark so I turned Malua's bow to the entrance and started the engine, for the wind had dropped off prior to the storm hitting.
I entered the pass with just one knot of current helping me in towards the two leads and between the port and starboard marks. I was in and had the mooring line secured well before the sun set creating a wonderful rainbow ad the rain approached. I had finished my precooked meal and had a opened a can of apricots before the first splatter of rain forced me to close the hatches and retire to a warm bunk.
I was up before it got light and planned my move the 25 nm to the Apitaki entrance. As the dawn broke in the east I could just make out the leads I let go the mooring line and turned for the entrance to be assisted by a one knot outgoing current. A great stop, I was refreshed and looking forward to what lay ahead.
I timed my entrance to the Niutahi entrance in the SW corner of Apataki just right. The water was almost slack, no wind and what sun there was was high in the sky. Just follow the leads, turn to starboard when the marks indicated and follow the deep blue water through the last part of the entrance and I was through and heading for the other cruising yachts. On all occasions no mater how deep the water you have to keep a look out for the coral reef which appear from nowhere. They are easily spotted on a sunny day either by the light blue water or the waves breaking in the shallow water. The pearl form buoys are not that easy especially if the wind is causing a chop and you are motoring into the chop. I took the remote autohelm and sat on the top of the hard dogger to be more than 4 meter above the waterline. From here I could see the dangers and steer the boat through the field of buoys. Dropping the anchor amongst the coral heads was a challenge but I did that trusting the wind would not turn to the north.
I was soon in the kayak with a crew fro Cygnus and paddling through the false pass to the end of the earth where the lagoon meets the open sea. Great experience, then back to a deserted pearl farm where I collected a set of empty pearl shells. Back to the boat for a quiet dinner and a good sleep. Two hour before dawn the wind rose and I felt Malua start to rise in the short chop and I found myself on a lee shore and a large coral bommie off the port stern. The anchor watch indicated that I was slowly dragging down wind in the soft coral shale of the atoll. Time to move again but not in the 25 knots of wind I found as the sun came up. I'll have to wait for the sun to get high in the sky before I chance a crossing of the atoll to quieter water. I made it to the NE corner and dropped anchor along side Little Explorers kids boat I had not seen in more than a month. The cruise was back on track and I was having fun again.
-----
At 6/26/2014 3:13 PM (utc) our position was 15°48.42'N 146°09.16'W