Unfortunately, we experienced more than one of those moments in preparing for our journey across the Pacific from Nuku Hiva. For starters, the delay in getting the fuel was the issue that nagged at us the most. Although the delay provided us an opportunity to further explore Nuku Hiva, we were concerned about being able to actually get the sufficient amount of fuel that we needed for the long journey.
Furthermore, we had cleared out of customs already since they were not going to be open the original day we were to take on fuel, so we were already overstaying our welcome by a few days. Obstacles kept getting in the way and preventing us from being able to physically pull up to the fuel dock.After four days of waiting we decided to take a stand and motor in to the fuel dock no matter what was in the way. Unsurprisingly, we were greeted with yet another obstacle preventing us from tying up at the fuel dock. The dredging barge was busy
at work first thing in the morning, which was a rare occurrence as it hadn’t moved during our entire stay. This particular morning, it had moved to block the entire fuel dock, not even providing a little sliver of dock to attempt to squeeze into. The odds were against us once again, but we were determined to get our fuel. Enraged, Mike went ashore on the dinghy and told the people enough was enough. Eventually, the barge moved over ever so slightly providing us with a narrow window to squeeze in and get our fuel. We never felt like more of an inconvenience.The calmness of the slow stirring morning at anchor was instantly replaced with adrenaline fueled calamity that no one enjoys experiencing any time of day, let alone
first thing in the morning. It was a blur squeezing in between the barge and the concrete dock in a cloud of dust coming from the recently dredged earth. The loud machines muted the screaming men who were trying to tell us where to go and what to do; they looked like frantic mimes as they made grand gestures trying to instruct us. On board Antipodes, we were having our own comic display of charades. We didn’t feel comfortable side tying to this particular dock, but we had to follow protocol if we wanted any cooperation in getting our long overdue fuel. It must have looked like a bad circus act to any outsider who saw our sad attempt at docking. Lines flying through the air, red faces fuming, hands gesturing wildly, and faint shouts over the loud machines charged the environment as Andy and I worked fast trying to keep the 55’ steel boat from smashing into the concrete. Mike was doing an excellent job at the helm, but he was no match for the untamed seas. To make matters worse, the barge moved out of the protection zone of the swell thus exposing the boat to the rough surge that we had hoped to avoid. As I was preparing to toss a line to one of the men on shore, the boat violently crashed into the concrete dock squeezing the life out of the fenders and launching me across the beam of the boat. Astonished, I stood up trying to gain my composure but ended up looking more like a bird with ruffled tail feathers that had just crashed into a windshield. I immediately tried to get back amongst the madness to get the boat secured but Antipodes had other plans for me.
Upon assuming my previous position I was instructed to move a fender to a better position, but was immediately halted by a large surge that made a toy out of
Antipodes and jammed me into a much more precarious position. I screamed in pain as my left arm became trapped and compressed between the steel boat and the concrete dock. I wasn’t sure what had happened and my brain was numb to rational thought given the anxiety of the adrenaline pumping events. As soon as the surge from the sea backed down I was able to pry my arm free and commenced to hop around in an “owie dance” while holding my swollen, throbbing arm. I know one should never attempt to be a human fender, but I guess amidst all the excitement I forgot the first and most important rule: never put any part of your body between the boat and the dock. While in some circumstances, taking the limelight is something I quite enjoy, this was certainly not one of those moments. I was useless and in shock as I screamed and danced around the boat, completely oblivious to the external ruckus around me. I had foiled our plans and as I noticed the boat pull away from the dock, I was worried my antics had ruined our possibility of getting fuel. Fortunately, I was wrong, and Mike and Andy were able to come up with an alternative idea to med tie the boat which was better suited to the conditions, but they were far from getting a break in the excitement just yet. Just as they were able to secure the fuel hose, they noticed a pair of pink crocs and oars floating in the water around the boat. I remembered a conversation with some of our cruiser friends
about pink crocs a few days back and instantly knew who’s shoes they were. I was shouting to the boys that they shoes belonged to our friends on Comfort Zone and that their dinghy had been side tied to the dock while the owner had gone ashore. The boys went to look for the dinghy, but it had disappeared. Finally, when the swells moved out for a second, they spotted the dinghy under the concrete dock. During our little circus act, the surge had managed to pull the dinghy under while emptying it of its contents. Without further delay, Mike and Andy decided to go on a rescue mission, eager for more excitement while I called the respective owner of the pink crocs on the VHF to let her know of the current situation. The boys were successful in their rescue attempt, and managed to salvage the dinghy and its contents without any damage. When they finally got back to Antipodes, we eagerly rushed to get out of there so as to avoid any more hectic events that were thrown our way. 
After we got our fuel and safely departed the fuel dock, the boys decided I needed to go to the hospital. Drained from the previous events, I was reluctant to even leave the boat given my state, but I knew it was for the best. I was in quite a bit of pain and my arm was swelling really fast. Disappointed in myself for acting so
poorly under heightened circumstances, I decided it was wise to listen to their orders as they helped me get to shore. Fortunately, the experience was uneventful and after x-rays, I was lucky to get away with a tiny fracture in my joint that would only require me wearing little sling until I felt better. I was very lucky given the nature of the accident and I humbly took the abuse that I rightly deserved from the other crew members. 
Finally fueled up, we spent one last night in the company with our cruiser friends and made an early departure the following morning. We were heading to an island NW called Eiao to wait for a clear in the weather to begin our long passage. It was a fair motor across taking us roughly 18 hours and arriving at the unfavorable hour of midnight. Still trying to get used to the rocky motion of the un-stabilized boat, we had yet another little hiccup in our travels. While cooking dinner, a knife flew off the counter top and sliced open Mike’s leg just adjacent to his Achilles tendon. While gushing blood and trying to hold on for dear life, I got to see Mike’s rendition of the “owie dance” that evening. We patched him up and carried on with our trip preparing to anchor only with the faint light of the moon. The anchorage was tricky to maneuver in the dark, but Mike did a great job. Tuckered out, we crawled into our beds that evening and slept soundly. 
We spent another day in Eiao waiting on a weather window which gave us a chance 
to explore a little. There was not much to offer on the desolate, uninhabited island, but at least we had a chance to check it out. On July 30th, we finally pulled up anchor and began our passage across the Pacific. Our route remained unknown at the moment, but we knew we at least were headed NE. The next few days would give us a better idea of where we were headed and roughly how long it would take. 
With adjustment, we all fell into our routine of 4 hour watches and hoped for an uneventful passage across.
No comments:
Post a Comment