Day 3 - Storm Runners

We shoved off from Warai about 6am, my stomach in my throat again, adrenaline rushing, every bit of me asking how I got myself into this. Prior to launching we'd talked a bit with some of the younger folks who came out to help, asking them some more about the weather. One valuable piece of information they mentioned was that when you see the clouds off in the distance upwind of where we're at start to look like the smoke of a fire, black, with rain, the weather is about to get bad. Some more discussion about the current conditions ensued and we felt pretty good about giving a try to cross the reefs at a closer point than where they had recommended yesterday. It would still be rough but things were pretty mellow this morning. The breakers weren't nearly as bad as yesterday when we'd come in. Two guys offered their help to show us where exactly would be good and help us time the waves. One went out on his canoe to lead us. The other sat on the aft deck of Shan Skailyn with us to help us paddle out there... I think he mostly just wanted to see what it was like to be on this canoe because he'd been talking about coming along with us since yesterday afternoon.

The first set of reef was easy because the outermost reefs break quite a bit of the force of the waves, making the inner layer of reef not so extreme. We just cruised over those because they were so tame at that time in the morning. Yesterday afternoon they'd been much bigger. But the outer reef was definitely going to take a bit more effort. I found the canoe nearly impossible to steer with the Chad, Sesi and myself, plus this other guy sitting on the aft deck. Once we approached the outer reef, I indicated that I can't point the canoe properly with him sitting there and that we'd need him to hop in his buddies canoe before we head out over the waves. Besides I was suspecting that had he continued with us beyond the breakers he would have said there's no way for him to get back to his buddies canoe and insisted that he had to continue with us. This was something we'd talked about before. While the idea seems harmless, the repercussions, should something horrible happen to us and this guy get hurt or killed, would likely end our ability to live in this country. If he was hurt or killed the pay back system here would kick in. If we weren't immediately found and lynched, we would be pursued long and hard and would be unable to remain here safely. I felt bad enforcing the issue, but we made sure that he got off the boat and into his buddies canoe before we made the attempt to cross the breakers.

We got lined up in the right place, watching the waves break right in front of us. The whole time I was working the steering oar (which, by the way, quickly became my best friend when finer, immediate manipulations of Shan Skailyn's position were needed) and Sesi and Chad were holding us in place with the use of the paddles. The traditional outrigger canoe with our guides floated parallel to us nearby on our port side. We started watching the waves for patterns, looking for when it looked like a series of smaller ones might be coming. The guys kept saying to wait... wait... wait... wait. It was kind of scary to see such big waves breaking just there in front of us, coming our way. But they invariably fizzled to mere swells after the reef, by the time they reached us. After waiting and watching a bit they suddenly shouted loudly to go go go go go! We pulled with all we had, quickly broke through the waves and were on the other side within a minute or two. The whole thing was rather anticlimactic actually, what with all the build up and fear that was worked up about it. Wasn't too bad. Very little water even broke over the bow or gunwales. Good! All in all, getting past those breakers took us about a 1/2 hour.

We paddled out a little, looking back with fondness on the beach and village we'd just left. On the surface it really does look idyllic with simple huts built right up to the beach, the sound of the waves constantly in the background as they wash up over the black sand. Coconut palms in such abundance their little tufts of foliage work together to provide a bit of shade, which is finished off by by the other lower growing trees around. The beach is nestled perfectly between some rocky reef type outcropping and some rocks and fallen trees on the other side. It was a nice place to go, be friends, and rest.

One little side detail I neglected to mention was that there is a wrecked Japanese submarine right off the beach of Warai. Standing on the beach the day we arrived, just enjoying looking out at the ocean, I first spotted the black stationary piece that peeked out from among the breakers here and there. I asked some kids that were there with me and they said it was a submarine. Knowing better, I thought they must have had their imaginations fed by something or were playing games with me. I asked if that's what it really was. "A submarine!" they said. Maybe they just didn't really know what that was, so I asked some other questions about what it looked like, knowing they'd be familiar with it's shape since they swim on the reef out there when it's calm. A few older men came by and I asked them, still not ready to believe that was a submarine. They all concurred and told me the story that the rocky outcropping there next to their village was fortified by US forces in WWII. A Japanese sub apparently came into the shallower waters between the layers of reef, was fired upon and somehow got stuck on the innermost reef. Very interesting. They actually had a long piece of metal something or other from whatever was out there being made use of in the middle of the village.

So we pulled away from Warai that morning, relieved to have gotten past the breakers. Only a little ways out and the Taleo Wind picked up so we set the sail and began tacking into it. Today's track angled out south away from the wind just a little bit more than yesterday. Because of this, and because we decided to avoid tracking into and around the bay area that opened up after Warai, we found ourselves doing only the occasional port tack to move out away from the coast. Other than that the day was mostly on a starboard tack, but still close hauled enough into the wind that we weren't flying by any stretch of the imagination. I wanted to check the gps to see how we were doing speed wise. I'd turned it on before we left and now it wasn't on. Pushing the power button didn't produce anything. There was water in the screen! It was toast! We were now without a gps. I'd attached it to my life vest before we took off. It seems when I was in the water during the launch, this supposedly waterproof gps took on water. Watch out for those Garmin GPSmap 62s units. Who makes a gps that isn't waterproof anyway? Seems a silly thing... especially for Garmin. OK, there's my warning to potential buyers. Garmin left us hanging when we really needed it.

As a team we really began to feel this day that we were falling into a good rhythm. Each of us kind of slipped into a role on Shan Skailyn; Chad sat in the aft seat and manned the sheets. When the wind wasn't very strong he'd cam the sheet, and break out his paddle, as would Sesi. With the sail raised, pointing into the wind, the added paddle power created enough of our own wind that we'd actually begin to make real good time with minimal effort. We did this quite a few times on the trip. Sesi sat just forward of the middle. He would tend the sails, tightening the luff when needed, brailing, de-brailing, raising and letting down the mast, any of those things which seemed to need attention through the day. Sesi also paddled. I sat in the middle, and took on the job of steering, using the rudder when under wind power and the steering oar in almost all other situations. There were very few times when we could track straight with all of us paddling. The drag of the ama likes to pull us to port. So someone always had to be steering. Since the rudder creates constant drag, mitigating our precious paddle power, I figured the better tool was the steering oar which could be dipped and pulled in a rhythm with the paddlers with minimal drag. Sesi and I were also the balast. Chad, sitting on the aft seat had little he could do to help with balast, which wasn't really needed anyway since between Sesi and myself we usually found that we were already over-ballasting because of our fear of capsizing. As a team though we were beginning to work well together, learning to trust each other's decisions that are critical to our well-being, learning to communicate and keep each other on our toes. We'd be able to spot, looking at the water ahead, that there was a change in the wind speed, we'd talk about being ready with the sheet and rudder and to shift ballast... it was working well... feeling good out there! But don't let that fool you into thinking we were some fine tuned sailing vessel out there. The fact is we were still unaware of many factors that would help us. Lots of things we'd continue to learn to do better over the days. One of those things we'd need to be more attuned to was nearly upon us.

We'd just passed Lamtub School. Our next goal was to round the next little point with long reef jutting out away from it which, once passed would bring us to Lamtub. We'd seen storm clouds out on the horizon, clearly a rainstorm. It fit all the description of what we'd been warned to look for earlier; like smoke from a fire. What we didn't know was how soon it would hit us. We figured it would be easy to get past this point before the storm hit so we went for it. But by the time we were just before the point, the wind was picking up. Most of the problem with these storms is that they seem to be preceded by a big troublesome wind. Once the storm hits, things settle down in the rain... at least that was our experience quite a number of times. So we were on a starboard tack which was just barely going to get us past the outside of the reef. It was sketchy at best, but we'd decided to go for it despite the strong wind and bigger waves at this point. Then right there in front of the reef and all those big breakers the wind picked up hard, starting to bury the ama deeply. Chad sheeted out and I turned into the wind too hard. I had been hiked out on the starboard (non-ama side). I didn't quite have this depowering procedure worked out in my mind when I did it. I just knew to turn into the wind. Yes, I'd thought about it before, but thinking and doing are two very different things when pressed to perform quickly under stress. I only did half of what was needed and too much of it, turning the boat all the way into the wind, depowering the sail, but remaining in the hiking seat. Physics show no mercy when one forgets about the principles of ballast. With the wind no longer pressing us to port, and my full ballest still on the starboard side, the boat nearly capsized. I managed to jump to the other side, noted that Sesi was still onboard, then noticed that Chad was in the water, the distance between us growing. With the sail now luffing, and the wind and waves threatening to drive us to those breakers, we paddled to close the gap between us and Chad. Chad is quite the manly man and is unfazed to be overboard and took the whole thing well. It wasn't long before he was back on board and we quickly set the sail and ran before the wind, back tracking to a beach just prior to the breakers to escape the worsening weather. This was the beach we SHOULD HAVE gone to instead of foolishly taking our chances with the storm. Lesson partially learned. It would take one more for the truth of it to sink in. When you see a storm a comin' you got about 20 minutes... maybe half and hour... to find a place, or otherwise brave the weather; every time. I rather enjoy consistent rules like that, though going through life looking for more rules to follow always gets us in trouble, there are times when the unknowns abound that a cold hard rule gives comfort.

The beach we landed on was a steep, lone white sand beach plateauing into dense jungle foliage. The breakers were big and breaking only right up on the beach. We managed with our little routine of brailing the sail, approaching under paddle and oar control, Chad jumping out first and holding that safety rope to brake and help keep the hull perpendicular to the beach, a little more oar steering and me jumping out holding the aft iako braking and then finally Sesi jumping out almost nearly on the beach. Smooth for how rough things were. We used the waves to move Shan Skailyn up high and then tied him off. As usual after each landing, I grabbed my phone out of it's watertight tennis ball saver canister and called my woman to let her know where we're at and that we're doing well.

Nobody was around on this beach, but after a little while a single, more aged gentleman came up the beach having walked from where we had just failed to go. He spent some time with us, got a few 'kulau' coconuts for us to drink, offered some raw peanuts and we storied about various things, but mostly the weather, this beautiful place, and what brought us to this beach. Up high on the bank were some trees, the branches twisting here and there with seemingly more horizontal than vertical... good places to sit in the shade. We took shelter from the sun for a bit while we storied. A while later two young men came from the other direction, Lamtub School. One carried a strange homemade device with some D size batteries nestled in it and two bent metal prongs on one end looking like two metallic curled fingers. It was his solution for charging his cell phone battery, which he always carried around without the battery cover on. We all talked a bit more before the older gentleman feigned concern about the strength of my ama struts. Getting me away from the others who were still sitting in the shade we walked over to the boat, he kneeled down by the ama so as to appear to ask me about the part of Shan Skailyn in question. He pointed his finger at the strut and told me in a lowered serious tone that he needed me to listen to him. He said "You should not stay here. After the rain comes, you should go. Watch your things very carefully and watch yourselves. One of those guys here with you is a trouble maker. He'll take your stuff as soon as he can. You need to get yourselves and your boat out of here this afternoon after the rain." Hmmmm, so much for soaking in the beauty of the place. Now, every move these younger guys made was going to be carefully watched. We concluded the charade and then headed back to the shelter of the trees as it finally began to rain. After a while, the old man said that he had to go, but to remember what he'd told me. I thanked him for the advice, the kulau and the peanuts.

After our gray haired friend, whose name I can't remember, walked off down the beach we spent some time with our two younger friends, perfectly nice fellas. We kept the social activity away from the boat just to be sure. After nearly an hour and a half on that beach, the wind, the rain and the waves subsided and it was time to shove out again. We elicited the help of our friends and moved Shan Skailyn out, stern first, into the water, figuring it would be easier than turning him around on the beach. Shan Skailyn's stern and bow are identical in shape so it's always an option to just paddle him the other way if needed. It was particularly hard pushing through those breakers with how big they still were and how they were breaking only right there on the steep beach. There wasn't a lot of room to shove off because almost as soon as you got in the water it was deep enough to not have any footing. As a result we took on a lot of water that had broken mostly over the stern-turned-bow. But once we were out the weather was good, breeze was light but definitely enough and so we turned our craft around, set sail and headed on out, finally making it past that pesky reef.

Going on only about a kilometer or two we saw a stretch of coastline about 2 km long with nothing but jagged black coral type rock. We evaluated the weather before committing to move past it. Things looked good, except off in the distance the clouds did look a bit ominous. Not as obvious as the storm we'd seen before, so we decided to go for it. Just barely into this stretch of rocky convert-your-boat-to-toothpicks zone those not so obvious clouds became obvious. A storm was definitely heading our way. We knew we didn't have long to finish this, but the winds weren't such that we could move very fast. We'd found earlier that while under sail in light winds, if we added some paddle power, it would give us just enough speed to create our own wind, picking up much more speed with minimal effort, and with the added benefit of being able to turn into the wind a bit more. Both these benefits are what we needed bad right now. Our current tack, close hauled starboard, was just enough to keep us moving right up that coast, but was ever so slowly bringing us closer to those rocks. Being able to turn into the wind a bit more would maybe prevent us from having to spend more time tacking. What we really wanted to do was get beyond the danger of these rocks before the storm hit. But it was not to be. We were getting too close for comfort so we tacked out a little ways before resuming our progress in the race against the storm.

20 minutes went by and we still weren't done with those rocks. The end was in sight, but it was going to be a bit. The wind was getting stronger now, waves nearly parallel to the boat, meeting it's hull on the starboard side with big slaps, sending lots of water over the gunwale and shoving Shan Skailyn off tack considerably. With the stiffer wind we were able to turn into the wind enough to cut through the waves a bit more, but still had to do a lot of steering to make it all work. The wind continued getting stronger and we were getting nervous.

For the steering I'd discovered that fixing my eye on a point on land and focusing on keeping the boat pointing at it was effective for being able to discern steering corrections. Watching that point and only that point would allow me to better sense what the waves and wind were doing to our little craft so that I could do what was necessary to keep him on track. I did that here, and noticed with the waves hitting us the way they were, I had to constantly turn into the wave and wind just prior to wave impact, then back away as soon as we crested, then once nearly at the bottom again turn into the wave again and then back away at the crest, and on and on we went. This was able to maintain a pretty good course minimizing the effect of the waves which otherwise had been hitting the bow and turning us hard out from the wind.

Now the wind was getting just plain scary, the waves driving us higher and lower. Whitecaps were all around. Big waves, probably 6' to 8' (again, it's hard to be objective here... just a guess) and we needed to get past that final rocky point. Once again, Sesi and I had to hike out on the starboard side quite a bit to keep the ama from burying in our now speedy race against the storm. It was clear at this point we'd lost the race. Now we just needed to do what we could to finish safely. If I hadn't read somewhere that the safest craft to be on when the conditions are nasty is one under sail power; not drifting, not motor power, but sail power... If I'd not read that I think my instinct may have been in these situations to drop the sail for safety. But as it has it, keeping the sail up seems to be the way to go, just either point into the wind, or let that sheet out nicely to make it more manageable (or if you're bright enough, which clearly we are not, then reef the sail before the bad stuff hits). Easier said than done, but I can't imagine what it would have been like had we decided to drop sail in times like these. It probably would have ended much differently.

So nearly at the end of the rocky section we spotted a nice white line of beach in the distance on the far side of a small bay. We made straight for it moving quickly, still on our starboard tack. Going going going, my eye fixed on a point just upwind on the beach to compensate for the little bit of lee movement we're surely making. The beach was getting achingly closer as the storm blew harder and we just couldn't wait to get to safety. I reminded myself that God's greatness and love is bigger and trumps all this. Here is where my spirit rests and can focus on the job at hand rather than panic. Doesn't necessarily mean I'm physically safe... just means there's something bigger, better, not random, not chaotic. Whether I live or die the result is the same; gratitude, rest, contentment. The rain was falling now. Still longing for that beach to be landed upon, and then Sesi pointed out that he saw some people on a beach in another section of the bay. He thought it would be better to go where people are at. We gave it a few seconds of thought and decided he was right. So I warned Chad to be ready with the sheet as we turned out, which would increase the force of the wind on that sail if not sheeted out. We turned to port, now running before the wind over the starboard quarter. The wind was strong enough and we were aligned with the movement of the waves so that we started really flying. That beach was going to be upon us quicker than we'd be ready if we didn't work things out right! We brailed the sail in preparation for our landing routine. However, in a momentary lapse, I forgot to shift my weight back to the hull as the sail was brailed. We almost capsized as we approached the beach... not a good place to capsize. We'd probably be OK, but I could imagine the canoe would be quite damaged as the waves washed the capsized craft onto the beach. I managed to jump out of the starboard hiking seat again, keeping from a full capsize. But we lost Chad again! We were close enough to shore that he yelled to keep going with the landing. So we enacted our routine, minus Chad on the rope. After landing we immediately checked to verify that Chad was indeed making his way safely ashore. No problem.

Our first quick conversation amongst ourselves consisted of reveling in just how unbelievable that was, what we just came through. Our hearts still racing, we thought it apt to dub ourselves 'Storm Runners' since we got caught twice in that predicament today.

After about a half hour of us winding down, telling the good size crowd who had gathered to watch us what we'd just gone through and finding out that we were now at a place called Badet, the rain died down and I wanted to call Shannon again to let her know where we were at and that we were safe. It was now late enough in the afternoon that we were probably going to stay here the night. The folks told me I'd have to walk out to the point at the end of the bay to get a signal. Someone offered to show me the way so I followed him. As we went along talking, I found out that this particular gentleman had been to Mibu where we live back in 2009. He'd heard somehow of how the Mibu people have come to know Jesus. He wanted to check it out and let them know that he thought this same talk needed to be brought to his village. So he hiked up there and interestingly found himself staying at Sesi's house! Small world divinely orchestrated! Still on our way to the point with digicel network coverage we crossed that white beach we'd been making a mad run for when the whether turned foul. Nice beach. But I noticed that just under the water along the whole beach were many many sharp rocks. Deceptively dangerous! I imagined what would have happened had we continued on for that beach. Again, just seeing God's hand at work despite our total ignorance. Wow!

After my phone call, we went back and finished preparations for leaving it for the night, removing all gear, bailing out and drying any water in the hull, covering the canoe with the tarp. Oh, I've not mentioned yet that I cut a special tarp to fit Shan Skailyn. The purpose is several fold. For one, it keeps the rain out at night. But also it makes it a bit less tempting for prying eyes. And then finally, if we ever did land on a beach with no people around, then we could camp out under the tarp's cover in the rain. Mozzie nets and bug spray would help us battle the malaria and dengue carrying mozzies and also those nasty sand fleas. Turns out we never needed it for sleeping. But we were always thankful to be able to cover the boat. Once covered, people weren't nearly as likely to stand around in a crowd around the thing. That's when little things tend to go missing, unless you're standing guard the whole time.

We were now in the Kolom language area. One's language here is called their 'tokples' in Pidgin. So we were in the Kolom tokples, planning on staying the night in Badet, about 34 kilometers from our originating point of Wab. Badet is located right at the mouth of the Batedya river which pours small and clear into the breakers we'd just come through. We'd hoped to be much further by this point in time, but had to remember that we were still at the sharp end of the learning curve. Each day ought to get better as we learn more how to handle the Shan. I missed my family greatly and the thought of each day covering significantly less distance than we'd like made me sorry I'd decided to do this trip with no way out. I didn't want my wife to be stuck in the tough status of single mother of 4 children any longer than needed. I began thinking that at day 5 or 6 we would probably need to find alternative (ie. QUICKER) ways to get Shan Skailyn to Madang. This seed planted in my brain rooted and sprouted over the next day or two, thankfully never coming to fruition.

I find myself wishing we had more objective data about things such as our tacking angles, top speed, etc. We miss having the gps. But I find at times like these that being weaned from technology has it's advantages. Measurements of speed cease to be so important simply because it's not an option. So rather I find myself contended to feel the boat moving... just moving good. Fast, slow, easy going, thrilling, whatever... those become my graduations; and that on a scale of satisfaction rather than the hard cold objective scale of speed. It's nice. It's gratifying to be on this thing that I'd labored so hard on, had so many doubts and questions about, and just feel it move and work the way it's supposed to! To be honest, a lot of it is that I still can't believe this boat works!

So once we got Shan Skailyn prepped for the night, we walked the little ways to the nearby village for the standard wash, get settled in, story, eat, eat and more eating. For some reason, even though we plan on getting up early in the morning, we keep finding ourselves staying up far too late at night. Perhaps it's the pleasant company of our hosts. How else do completely exhausted people continue up chatting until 11 or 12am when they know they have to get up for another round of butt whooping the next day? Once again, we were just treated so well by the folks at Badet. They didn't have to feed, house, or do anything for these strangers that washed up on their beach. But they did and they did so quite happily.

This day was really good for us as far as learning. We figured out some principles... though putting all the pieces together in order to see those principles in action are another thing... but we learned some principles especially regarding the importance of ama drag. It's a real killer. Doesn't matter what tack you're on. You need to be thinking about how to get that ama so it's not pressing too hard (or at all if you're really good) into the water. On a port tack, too much ballast (in our case, over compensation due to fear) equals more drag, equals strong weather helm, equals unnecessary rudder correction... and all that equals a really inefficient use of the boat, not to mention the frustration of constantly finding your sail starting to luff every time you start to gain a little bit of speed. The simple act of being more sensitive and active with your ballast can make a huge difference in performance. Same with the starboard tack. On the starboard tack you don't want to try to make yourself feel good by thinking that the ama makes that tack less likely to capsize. You get lazy with your ballast. You still want to ballast to get that ama just on the surface of the waves. When the ama is pressed too hard you have strong lee helm, which equals stronger forces from the wind if you're not watching your sheet, which equals even more lee helm from even more ama drag (it's a quickly perpetuating disaster if you don't look out for it). So the temptation is to correct with the rudder. Again, very inefficient, lots of overall drag, frustrating and difficult to maintain your tack. Better to hike out enough that the ama is just on the water surface as much as is possible. I found hiking out a bit more, made us go faster, point higher into the wind, and tack straighter! Now, I've got all those things rattling around in my head, a magic formula as it were for sailing nirvana... at least for our purposes... yet accomplishing this every time is difficult. But we'd had glimpses of it today. A good encouraging day! Oh, and one other thing I personally struggle with is keeping my cool when things get hairy. As soon as I get panicky, I make stupid decisions. I find I have a conscious struggle to maintain a cool head when I am out of my league. It's the only way for me to continue to think straight and put pieces together rightly. Chad was an inspiration in this area, watching him and having to decide, either this guy is really naive about what we're into, or he's just coolly processing what he needs to do. Consistently the evidence points to the latter.