A few days out of NZ, a call was put out by the yacht "Ramtha" for assistance. We had met them and just happened to be the closest boat, so we turned back and while Phil kept "Windora" close by, our friend Dave rowed over, collected the broken part of the steering system, Phil welded it together in the wheelhouse, and Dave rowed it back, helped reassemble it and returned to our boat. With a cheery wave of thanks and a promise of a meal in Tonga, we set off again.
A sudden jibe and the main sheet block broke, sending the main boom smashing into the rigging and breaking the boom. Sailing under headsail and mizzen, we headed for Raoul Island where there was a weather station with a good workshop. Had this not happened, we believe we would have been safely in Tonga ahead of the storm, but our course was set and we were about to experience the sea's fury.
The first few days were fun. Phil got the boom ashore and repaired, the NZ navy vessel Monowai was there unloading food and supplies for the DOC staff and it was a great island to explore. There was a blow on it's way so we moved around to Denham Bay, leaving the unfinished boom ashore, and after anchoring, Phil and I rowed over to "Fallado" to copy a chart of the island from Meryl and Helmut.Then it just hit us, winds gusting 60-70 knots! Our boat started to drag with Dave and the boys onboard so Phil borrowed their inflatable and rushed back. I was too frightened to get in the dinghy, believing it would be flipped in the wind, but had I known I would be unable to get back to "Windora" for days I wouldn't have hesitated. Phil got the boat re-anchored and I enjoyed a night in Meryle's company. No sleep was had that night, but there was no sense of being in any danger either.
Getting ashore Next day the wind had shifted and we had to get out of that bay. The radio had been busy with calls from many yachts, some very distressed and believing they would not survive. Helmut decided to turn the radio off except for the scheduled reports to avoid stressing us too much so we were unaware of all that was going on out on the ocean. There was nowhere safe to anchor and we couldn't go to sea with me being on another boat so we both motored up and down in the lee until even that became impossible. Night arrived, the blackest of nights, with land, sea and sky merging, and in that darkness we motored up and down a 400m line using 2 waypoints, watching continually so we didn't collide. Watching "Windora" on the radar we kept them on track for Phil didn't realise until the next day that we were going between a reef and the cliffs. All I wanted was to be back with my family and in the end I was hiding under a blanket with the shakes. The boys were still sleeping in the forward cabin, kept snug with their 30 stuffed toys. The men all struggled with tiredness, being awake for over 60 hours in the end.
At last daylight arrived and once again the wind had clocked, so after hearing that the seas were only 3 metres around on the eastern side, we headed in that direction. Going out into 10m seas was a frightening experience as one wave picked up Fallado and she slid down the side of the wave. "Fallado" is a very strong, heavy catarmaran and it was the first time this had happened. I looked back to see the top of "Windora's" mast above the wave tops. She looked so small and I wondered why we had brought our little boys out in such a small yacht, but as I watched her ride up and down the waves I saw how she was built for this sort of thing. I now think of that view as a gift, along with the knowledge that Phil was a great captain, making good decisions and keeping us safe. Anchors down, Phil rushed over with the boys to get me and at last sleep was possible.
We heard that 21 people had been rescued, 3 people had drowned and several boats sunk. Our families and friends had been watching it all unfold on the news and it must have been awful for them. If I had seen the footage I would never have gone to sea, but being in it and having to do whatever it took to stay safe kept us busy and focused. That fear of the first big storm at sea was laid to rest in the first week. We had survived and gained a new confidence in the boat and ourselves, well, Phil anyway. I was pretty useless.
The staff came out to see us a day later and never got back ashore that night as a vast amount of alcohol was drunk to celebrate life! They then threw us a party ashore and presented us with beautiful handmade certificates to say we had survived a Kermedec storm and made the slowest circumnavigation on record.
Boom back in place, we set off for Tonga. One night , while doing a sail change under spotlight, we all saw a green flare. Boats were still missing in the area so we contacted NZ thinking they would send out a plane, but when they didn't due to the colour of the flare, we returned to the area and tried to do a search. Every wave looked like a liferaft and eventually, with tears in our eyes, we turned back on course. A plane was eventually sent out and they found "Rampha" whose crew had been safely, but somewhat dangerously, rescued. The flare had not come from them. After a stop in South Minerva Reef we finally arrived in Tonga, too late to be part of the planned celebrations, if indeed they had even happened. I think we were probably in shock for the next few weeks, but in the end, it didn't put us off sailing as some people expected it would. There were several boats put on the market and some amazing stories told of boats that rolled and kept their rigs, of boats hove to and crew just sitting it out. There was also sadness at the loss of life and of people's dreams. Many had done a lot of miles, but for some it was their first offshore passage after years of getting their boats ready and now they were back to square one.
