Lost in the Pacific

A short update after 7 days at sea

Latitude: 22° 33.590’ S
Longitude: 156° 20.534’ 
Somewhere in the Pacific

When leaving the Brisbane channel, we decided to carry on to Vanuatu and give New Caledonia a miss due to their state of emergency. A shame, really, as I studied that place and was extremely looking forward to it, but it’s only a pleasure deferred.

The first night at sea after we left Brisbane, everyone felt a bit queasy. It was comforting to know that it wasn’t just us novice blue-water sailors feeling that way. We had plenty of seasickness prevention and medication, but we felt too nauseous to get them out, let alone look down to read the instructions on how to use or apply them. Exactly what we learned not to do at our Sea Survival course just a month ago! We were taught to familiarise ourselves with our seasickness medication, have it handy, and know how to use it if needed. My stomach did not like the idea of ginger beer that night either, which I usually swear by when feeling motion sick. Mark and I both didn’t move much during our first night watch; we were happy to just stay put and stare at the instruments. We slept well and felt much better the next morning, and by then were used to the boat’s movements.

Now we can finally enjoy the crossing, complete with its amaaaaazing sunrises and sunsets.

After 3 days, we did a short one-day, two-night stop at Chesterfield Reef to do some quick fixes on the boat. We took the dinghy and explored some of the reef, with an abundance of curious birds. What a beautiful little treasure the French have! The whole reef is covered in sensors for the French Navy to know if a boat has entered the reef since it’s been off-limits since 2020. As we had to do some maintenance, under maritime law, we were able to stop and seek some shelter from the open ocean. We didn’t get a visit from the Navy—seems like they were preoccupied in New Caledonia. We set off again early in the morning to carry on to Vanuatu, continuing our boat adventure.

The next 3 days were going to be rougher, with a bit of swell and the trade winds hitting us almost on the nose. This was an understatement. A 2.5m swell doesn’t sound like a lot but feels like a lot when diving nose-first into it. It’s pretty rough; sleeping has been difficult, and lying on your side isn’t even an option as you’ll be knocked around. We are 4 hours on from 12-4 pm and am, and then 8 hours off. In those 8 hours, you’ve got to eat, get stuff done, and sleep. We get enough sleep but broken into pieces: 1 hour here, 2 hours there, and 5 hours at night, so you do feel a little sleep-deprived at the end of the day. And we can count ourselves lucky to be on such a big, sturdy, and amazing vessel like MV Strannik. Just imagine doing this crossing in a Ross 35—that would feel like being in a washing machine.

Everything becomes a mission, like going to the toilet (I keep refining my one-hand-pulling-pants-down technique), making tea, or getting an apple out of the fridge (without having the whole fridge content landing on the floor), as with every step you work against gravity and get knocked around like you’ve drunk a bottle of Bacardi. We prepared all our dinner meals before we left so we could just put them in the oven, as preparing food or cooking would’ve been very challenging. Thanks to the autopilot, most nights we are able to have dinner all together.

It’s certainly more fun being in the wheelhouse during watch as you can see the waves coming. We even started rating the waves we were crashing into, with 10/10 being some kind of alarms going off. I’m very tempted to get my wet weather gear and stand on the bow to ride some waves, but some nose dives would probably wipe me off the foredeck. We just finished our day watch, and we’ve got another 48 hours to go till we reach Vanuatu. I’m trying to roll around my bed now for a couple of hours to get some rest before dinner, as we continue our South Pacific crossing.

Good night, sleep tight, and don’t let the bedbugs bite!