Storms at Sea and Sea Snakes

It's one of those traumatic childhood stories. We all have one. Moonlit graveyards, sock eating monsters under the bed, the Boogy Man, fluffy bunny rabbits, lumpy toads; there is a spine-tingling nemesis out there for everyone. Some are a bit more understandable than others, such as my strapping 6 foot 3 Scottish friend who has an apprehension towards turkeys (of the gobble gobble variety, not the sort found at the local pub, although both should understandably be feared). Well, when I was wee lassie, innocent and harebrained, (about sixteen year old), I discovered a four foot long bull snake draped lazily along our kitchen counter, calmly drinking water out of our tap. I stood for a minute, staring at his thick, spotted rope of a body and then ran outside to find the man of the house who proceeded to dispose of the reptile in a slightly inhuman process. I wouldn't go near the kitchen sink for a week and have since developed a slight squeamishness for anything that slithers...odd how some of those bizarre memories stay with you over the years.

Fast forward a handful of years and that bull snake was the first thing I thought of after spying the sea snakes of Niue Island. They were brightly striped, slippery and eager little buggers, nosy and curious, probably completely harmless and cute. However, while anchored in Niue harbour, I spent more than one hour wide awake, pondering the possibilities of a snake finding his way up the through-hull fittings and into my bed. Don't laugh - have you ever seen Anaconda??? It could happen...

When my mind wasn't preoccupied with sea snakes, I was simply fascinated by the island's topography. Niue is one of the world's largest emerged coral atolls, a saucer shaped island formed from the basement of an isolated volcanic cone. From afar, Niue looks like a bluish pancake cloud, barely skimming the surface of the horizon and stretching in either direction until the ends tapper and disappear into the ocean. Upon closer inspection, it's massive and absolutely breathtaking, 64 kilometres in circumference and completely encircled by gorgeous, golden geological barriers. The limestone reef and towering cliffs are nature's way of both protecting the island from the direct effects of the sea and perfecting the serene, postcard oasis that we travellers love so much.

The name ‘Niue’ translates as Behold! The coconut!, a native's proclamation that the rocky surface could sustain the coconut tree, thereby making the land worth inhabiting. Indeed, there were loads of palm trees blanketing the land, so the revelation apparently rings true. However, in January 2004, Niue was tormented by Cyclone Heta, an ultimately devastating hurricane that caused extensive damage and killed two people. The 250 kilometre winds wiped out most of Alofi, the tiny town that serves at the capital of Niue and claims home to most of Niue's citizens. From our mooring point off the pier, we witnessed the levelled palms, the ruined houses, the toppled and flattened downtown domain. It's amazing what wind and weather can do when the god's are enraged. Nature is truly a daunting phenomenon.

Speaking of weather...here's another story for you eager armchair readers.

Enroute to Niue

Fact: When it storms in the Pacific Ocean and you're marooned on a floating piece of wood (AKA Yacht Queequeg), you and all of your belongings, including every article of clothing, all previously dry bedding, and your highly prized stock of miscellaneous reading material, will eventually get sodden with rain and sea water. I don’t know how - some outlandish thing that the big wig scientists call condensation that I should have learned in my 6th grade textbook. Water was simply everywhere. EVERYWHERE!! No matter how well I hid my only warm jumper or how many plastic bags I wrapped around my new Canon camera, in the end, it was all waterlogged. I should have taken a hint from Paddington the Bear...a yellow slicker and rain hat is all that is needed on the high seas.

How did this all come about you ask?

It all started on day three out of Palmerston. The sunny and windless day was due to end in a brilliant sunset. Dinner was finished and the crew was mingling in the cockpit, sipping tea and waiting for the fabled green flash. Greeted with this mythical exhibition we were not. Instead, angry green clouds gathered menacingly on the horizon. Yes, they were green, raging Incredible Hulk type of green. In a matter of minutes, these green crusaders rushed our way as we scrambled about and secured lines, sails and rigging. Before we managed to haul in the entire roller furling, 70 mph winds ripped through the strong sail cloth and tore the remaining bit to shreds. Joe, Wes, and I were all pulling on the sheet to no avail - - nothing could match the brute strength of a roaring wind. We secured it as best as possible and rushed around to tie the bouncing dinghy before it was also blown away. In the meantime, safety wires were ripped out of their stainless steel holdings and the wind-vane on our Aires was torn off it's column. Yikes. The adrenaline was running.

Wind was coming from all directions and we were travelling in circles, heading back east from where we came. Cold rain was driving down, up, sideways, and diagonally as we struggled to navigate a safe course. Lines were blowing every which way and the flapping of our torn jib was deafening. It was much too dangerous to go forward and secure the torn foot of the sail for waves were crashing all the way over the cabin. Hatches burst open and flooded the galley . What was annoyingly damp before became sodden with sticky seawater. Turmoil, turbulence and topsy-turvy disarray. A sailor in his element....

Eventually, the wind died down to a less gale force level and Queequeg managed the high seas for the remainder of the evening. We were no longer heading along our westerly course, bound for Niue. Instead, the winds were leading us east, back to Palmerston. If that wasn't enough to make someone cranky, the sky wasn’t just gray. It was black…and cold...and the seas were rough. Nobody could eat or cook or do much of anything except lay on wet mattresses, waiting for watch time to come around. Even walking around the cabin took the stability and balance of a gold medal gymnast. I think we all came out of the storm with a fair share of bumps and bruises....and a few kilos thinner too. Even mashed potatoes and saltines were unappealing.

Eventually, as it always does, the rain stopped., the wind switched around and our frowns turned upside down. Everything was hung outside to dry - sheets, towels, clothes, bedding, mattresses, books, pillows, navigation charts, ect……and we laid in the sun, soaking up the rays. Land was only a few days away and we had plenty of packaged carbohydrates to sustain me till then!

There is nothing worse than sighting land and not being able to reach it. Thus was the case with Niue Island. We were making excellent timing as we approached during the late afternoon and it seemed we might enjoy a tasty Indian curry for tea that evening. However, night came upon us much too quickly and we couldn't risk a landing in the dark. Therefore, we spent the night drifting and motored up to the coast in the warm hours of mid-morning.

Alofi harbour was completely empty. We were only the second boat to visit since the beginning of the hurricane season and the yacht club was still in the process of installing moorings. Our parking spot was lovely and we didn't even have to feed the meter with handfuls of quarters! High cliffs encircled QQ on three sides and dark blue sea stretched infinitely behind us. Waves foamed, gurgled and frothed as they battled against yellow rock, white meeting gold in a struggle for power, a jaw dropping melody at it's finest. Aside from the sea snakes slithering along the hulls, it was a perfect spot.

Nuie was a laid back, refreshing stop on our slow sail eastward. It was quiet and many of the shops had yet to open for the 'tourist' season, several weeks down the road. Handshakes, welcoming smiles, gifts of shell necklaces and free rides around the island were common. Niue wasn't the ideal port to stock up on supplies or fresh produce but the local fisherman were quite talented and their catch was much appreciated, especially the fish and chips at Matavai Resort. The famous, guide book popularised ice cream 'Nazi' soon became our best friend. He had sixteen flavours, including the much desired Hokey Pokey, coconut, coffee, and strawberry, all favourites of the QQ crew. Lexi collected three fold for her hard work and pampering care during the storm and we experimented with triple decker scoops of mismatched flavours.

Our few days sped by and we were soon bidding farewell to our friends of Niue. American and Western Samoa, our next ports of call, were just a hop, skip and jump away. As we sailed out of Alofi, a small pod of dolphins gathered on our bow to wish us farewell. Jumping and diving, they carried us until the tip of the island and then departed with a flip of their fins, back to a fairytale life under the sea.

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