Very rough trip to Niue   Wednesday, 27/09/2023

What an unpleasant voyage here! We departed Tuesday in a 20-knot wind, which by Wednesday had risen (as forecast) to 25-26 knots, with gusts well over 30 knots. The sea state was very rough, not helped by four-metre (13 foot) waves coming across from the southeast. 

Sailing in seas like this is tiring. The boat is continually pitching and rolling, interspersed with crashes as it bounces off random small waves. The wind moans and whistles in the rigging. To some extent you do get used to it: after 40 hours of this, on Friday afternoon I found myself sitting in the cockpit in the sun and watching the waves. Hanging on as the boat rolled, I found I was quite enjoying it, thinking “Oh well, this is ocean sailing after all…”. I realised I’d slept well the previous night, despite the sea state, despite getting up several times to check that all was well, and despite sleeping next to the navigation station on the saloon couch which is about a foot shorter than the length of my body!

But by Saturday afternoon, with conditions if anything worsening, I was getting fed up. I hadn’t slept well on Friday night – tiredness is such a big factor in how you feel about things. We were getting close to the destination, but there was still another 16 or 17 hours to go, which felt like forever. But time of course passed, and conditions improved slightly through the night. After about four hours’ sleep, I was up at 6am because we were now just off the southwestern tip of the island of Niue. A change of course to northwards, some breakfast and coffee, and just after 9am we came into the bay of Alofi. 

The water here is very deep (where I am, 37 metres/125 feet), not suitable for anchoring. There are a number of mooring balls in the bay and I’d booked one, so just had to locate it. Fortunately, the sea in the bay was relatively calm because it is completely sheltered from the southeasterly swell, although a 20-knot wind was blowing across it. Catching the mooring ball is not the easiest thing to do, particularly when you are alone. You move the boat towards the ball, then abandon the wheel and run forward… It can take multiple attempts before you succeed. 

However, Sunday was my lucky day: when it came to it, I ran forward, reached overboard and managed to grab the float attached to the ball, pull it in, and had a rope through the ball’s eye, which I then quickly made fast to a cleat. On the first try! (It would be nice to think that this was skill – what a pity no-one was watching! – but it has to be put down to luck). Anyway, that was all done: I was attached. It’s a good idea to run two ropes through a mooring ball, attaching them to the cleats each side of the bow. For the second, I simply secured the end of a stout rope to the starboard cleat, then launched the dinghy and motored up to the ball to pass it through.

Then came general housekeeping: smoothing out the mainsail and getting it closed up in the sailbag; tidying away various lines; and washing the floor inside the boat – thanks to waves breaking over the boat multiple times I’d walked a lot of salt water inside. Plus, a little water had come in through the companionway hatch a couple of times when a wave broke right into the cockpit. Everything was sticky. After what felt like a very long voyage, it was a relief finally to be sitting inside a clean boat. I didn’t check in – leaving that until Monday morning. The great advantage of being tired: I was asleep before 10pm and woke to my alarm at 7am – so fully recovered! 

Checking in was the most lax I’ve yet experienced. I radioed ashore and was told to present myself at Customs between 9 and 10am. I found it and was given two forms to complete. I then said OK, what else do you need? Do you want the boat registration document? Nothing. What about my passport: do I now go to Immigration? Yes, but there’s no need, they’re not here. What about Health? Yes, you should be cleared by them too, but they’re also not here, so don’t bother! I said: Are you sure this is all ok? He laughed and said It’s fine, don’t worry, you are a free man! 

A further curiosity of Niue is the system for getting ashore. There’s a long concrete dock, which normally you would just tie the dinghy to, somewhere close to a ladder, and climb out. Here there’s a crane on the dock. You have to attach a bridle from the dinghy to the hook dangling from the crane. Then go up on the dock and operate a control, lifting the dinghy out of the water, up onto the dock. Then swing the crane and lower the dinghy onto a flatbed cart, which you then manoeuvre down the dock so as to deposit the dinghy out of the way. All quite a hassle, but memorable I suppose.

Niue is something of an oddity. It is one of the largest “raised coral atolls” in the world. Unlike normal atolls, which barely rise above sea level, the highest land on Niue is about 60 metres (200 feet) above the sea. It is surrounded by cliffs: its coastal terrace, roughly 500 metres wide, is about 25 metres above the water. The island is sizeable: a hundred square miles (261 square km). From the sea, it presents a picture of virtually unbroken forest – no surprise it’s so green: annual rainfall is just over 2,000mm (80 inches) – a lot. The population is small: about 1,700 – more than 90% of Niueans live in New Zealand, in which it is in “free association”. Perhaps the most amusing thing is that Niue means “Behold the coconut”! 

I shall post something more in a few days’ time when I have had more time to look around the island…