Last night at this time I was making a last sweep to find and secure any loose bits that I didn’t want blown off the boat or flapping in the wind. Twenty four hours later I’m watching a reddish sunset through the clouds that are still blowing rapidly by [...]]]> A tropical cyclone is a surreal experience.

Last night at this time I was making a last sweep to find and secure any loose bits that I didn’t want blown off the boat or flapping in the wind. Twenty four hours later I’m watching a reddish sunset through the clouds that are still blowing rapidly by and looking across the bay at the darkened lights of the the town of Neiafu.

The power was shut down last night before advancing Cyclone Rene could damage the live wires.  It will stay out until all the blown down power poles can be set back up and the transmission lines repaired.

Last night is a blur in my memory.  I remember a lot of time on the pitching bow fiddling with chafing gear, trying (ultimately unsuccessfully) to keep my mooring lines from chewing themselves to pieces and getting doused with waves breaking over the boat as it plunged down into the troughs.  I remember watching the wind gauge reach new heights and the barometer plummet.  At one point I thought I heard a horn and climbed up on deck to see a boat appear out of the blowing spray off my port bow slowly dragging it’s mooring toward the shoals at the entrance to the bay. Where the horn came from I don’t know because as far as anyone knows there was no one aboard. The Tongan ferry Pulapaki kept motoring around the bay all night setting and resetting it’s anchor, shining it’s spotlight around and generally adding to my nervousness.

My primary lines parted with a loud crack at around four AM, fortunately the day before Meki was able to set an extra safety line on my mooring.  It was just some nylon anchor rode that I have on board and it looked really skinny next to the hefty mooring line, but it held.  I motored into what I’m told was 90-120kt winds to take what pressure I could off the line.  I don’t think the winds were quite that high because I was sitting exposed to them for at least a couple of hours.  I wasn’t sure how long I was going to be able to keep it up; I was afraid that eventually the engine would suck some air into the lines from the sloshing fuel tank. Thankfully though, at daybreak things went suddenly calm as the eye of the storm passed over us.  I was able to motor up to the mooring ball and re-rig before it passed and the winds started again from the opposite direction.

I don’t know how long we sat there in the eye, I spent most of my time up on deck enjoying the calm.  The birds came out and there was a remora swimming lazily around the boat picking at floating leaves.

The second half of the storm has been a little less frightening because this is the weaker side of it and with the new wind direction I’m better tucked into the lee of the nearby shore.  Looks like it’s going to keep blowing 25+ knots for a couple of days though.

Most of the boats seem to have faired well through the storm, but a few broke loose:

Intellikey drug it’s mooring and perched itself on shoals near the entrance to the bay, only to be blown off again when the eye passed and the wind changed directions.  The mooring has temporarily reset itself and Intellikey is bobbing happily in it’s new spot.

On the afternoon before the storm I helped Joel on Paradise Bound untangle his mooring lines, they held but the mooring didn’t.  I heard Joel on the radio retrieving his boat walked the mooring blocks.

Lighten Up broke free from her mooring and blew past unnoticed sometime in the night and beached herself not far from me.  She was floating upright when the eye passed, but now she’s leaned up against the shore with her rig in the trees.