7:00 PM local time Thursday May 25th.
(0500 May 26th UTC) 16 38 S 151
29 W. Baie Haamene, Tahaa, Iles de la Societe, French Polynesia. Temp.
82, Humidity 67%, cloud cover 25%.
Perhaps I failed to mention that the new belt for the autopilot
failed after only about two hours, so motorsailing for all we were worth
to Raiatea, we steered by hand. And after a sloppy, slow ride we got to
the pass into Raiatea about 3:00. We had poor charts of the island
because the US charts are far inferior in this area to the French. But
we stopped at the fuel dock, asked advice from a local cruiser and found
our way through the marks without the help of the chart to the anchorage
he recommended. To our horror, the only spots available were in excess
of 100 feet of water. This is the equivalent, for you Bay Area sailors,
of dropping the hook in the middle of Raccoon Strait. 100 feet is eight
stories down. But it was getting late, we were very tired, and finding
another anchorage with our useless charts amidst a coral reef in the
dying light was also out of the question. So we dropped it down there.
Kinda creepy, if you ask the Captain, like sending your anchor off to a
different universe.
We put out 3 to 1 which is 300 feet for you math buffs. We like to
have at least 5 to 1 but let's get serious. That's 500 feet of chain. A
very experienced cruiser near us told us that it doesn't matter how deep
your anchor is, your swinging room remains the same when you're on
chain. There is some truth to this if one can assume less than five
knots of wind, but I inferred from his explanation that there also may
have been a misunderstanding of the Pythagorean Theorem involved. We
smiled and thanked him, but of late thinking about swinging room has
become somewhat of a sickness with the Captain to the discomfiture of
Ship's Psychiatrist Terry Shrode. At about 1:00 AM the Captain made the
calculation that the theoretical swinging radius for 300 feet of rode in
100 feet of water is 282.84271247461900976033774484194 feet, which means
that after you set the anchor you need to estimate a diameter of, to
round off, 565.68542494923801 feet and make sure nothing is there to
hit. But that's not the end of it. (Not to even engage in a discussion
of other boats and how one might swing into them, which the Captain will
save for another time.) The boat is 39 feet long, so if we add double
this figure to the diameter we get 643.685424949238 feet, and this will
keep the rudder off the reef. Of course, you must know exactly where
your anchor is to make the appropriate judgment. 643.685424949238 feet
is, again rounding off, 16.5047544858 boat lengths for Maverick. The
Captain awakened Mr. Shrode with this information. He added to Mr.
Shrode of the raised eyebrows that due to catenary the actual swinging
room will depend on the wind strength, and will probably never reach the
above figure, but this added analysis failed to stimulate Mr. Shrode's
full attention. The Captain, undeterred, suggested an anchor watch, to
which, to be rid of him, Mr. Shrode readily agreed.
We didn't drag that night, nor has Maverick on our watch ever dragged
its anchor. We did find, ashore in the Raiatea Carenage, the boat the
late Bernard Moitessier owned after Joshua was driven ashore. It was a
very funky boat being worked on, I believe, by his girlfriend. And the
island itself we found very charming, complete with a rainbow, if that's
what it's called, that appeared along the side of a mountain and seemed
to lie in the valley next to it instead of the sky where rainbows
belong. But we were tired and the Captain was cranky and it seemed
unnatural to be in that much water, and we wanted out of there. He
wished for three days of settled weather, that's all.
We visited the Moorings dock which was nearby and bought their charts
of Raiatea, Tahaa, and Bora Bora, and as they are very good, they ease
the mind. We saw on the fax that the squash zone strengthened but had
moved south and west and was squishing the folks down there. We are now
anchored and relaxing in Haamene Bay, Tahaa. We've decided we need some
rest and fortunately the conditions seem to be giving it to us. The
accumulation of three weeks of unsettled weather and dodgy anchorages
and that nasty, short passage to Raiatea took its toll on the Captain's
patience and this in itself is a lesson. But the Captain is aware that
boats rarely have come to grief because the skipper was too paranoid,
although, indeed, their crew very well may.
Next report from this location: French Polynesia for Gentlemen
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