The Passage

When the weather gods lie

After six weeks and two days of waiting, dozens of boats got ready to set sail north. A weather window finally arrived.

But not all were so sure.

“That’s not a window. It’s barely a porthole!” a guy at the marina posted in all caps, although he had no intention of ever leaving land.

“Don’t go,” the weather router said, like he did the last time, and the time before, so they all ignored him because what would he know.

The captain heard the debates with interest and attention. He checked the weather charts and forecasts and, after much contemplation, he loudly declared, “This is as good as it gets. Let’s get ready to go!”

“Yes!” his first mate yelled, because she longed for the sea and was sick of wearing winter hats and socks.

Before long, the captain and first mate stood in line at the customs office above the fiberglass shop. It was sunny and unusually warm, and a dozen sailors smiled in the queue, full of joy because they were finally heading north to the lands of coconuts.

The officer stamped the passports and wished them well. The captain and the first mate walked back to their dinghy and then headed to their waiting boat.

With equal measures of excitement and trepidation, they worked to get the boat ready to go. The coffee mugs were stowed, the hatches closed, the VHF turned on, and the anchor raised and lashed tightly with a silver rope, “just in case,” the captain said.

And then they were off, sailing slowly down the channel to the open sea. They sailed past the dozens of boats anchored near Russell and the ferries docked in Paihia, and before they knew it, there was no land that they could see, not even the shade of a mountain top.

The first day came and went without a hitch. The first mate monitored the radar and worked out at the helm. The captain plotted their progress with a sharp pencil on an ancient chart, just in case, even though it all felt safe. The waves rocked the boat, gently to one side and then the other, just enough to put the off-shift crew to sleep so they could dream of sunny beaches and colorful fish.

So magical was the second day, and then the third.

But the fourth day came, and the winds picked up. And then, on the fifth, the waves rose above the cabin top. At first, they managed. They reefed the sails and wore the fancy jackets with the yellow hoods, because that’s what real sailors do when the ocean gets rough.

And on the sixth, it wasn’t funny anymore.

Thirty knots was the lightest it got. For hours and hours, it never let up. The waves towered over their heads and crashed into the boat with the force of a million gods. The autopilot threw its hands up and just gave up. But there was nothing else to do but stay on course, sailing directly downwind towards the pass on the south side of Viti Levu.

So they reefed, and then reefed some more. For hours they stayed at the helm, captain and first mate, wincing when the winds reached 42 knots and the sound of a freight train was felt in their bones. They surfed, or tumbled down the waves, and waited for the mast to come down or the hull to break in two. And when night came, they prayed to the gods to let them see the sun at least once more.

But the boat just kept on sailing north, unaware of the drama transpiring on the deck above. Or maybe she knew and didn’t care. How dare they question her resolve? This is what she was made for.

So on the seventh day, or maybe it was the eighth, dawn arrived as it always does. Two miles from the pass, the winds finally let up, the seas flattened, and the boat glided into the flat waters of the blue lagoon. And there was no bone-rattling noise of runaway trains, just the sound of water slushing under the hulls and the singing birds welcoming the sun.

So the captain made coffee and sat at the helm next to his first mate, who seemed relieved but not quite assured.

“Let’s not do that again,” she said, barefoot and without a hat.

“Aye Aye,” the captain said.

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Greetings from Fiji!

Thank you for reading this story. We made it safely to Fiji in mid-June, and after spending three weeks traveling in Spain, we are back in the boat and settled in Musket Cove, getting ready for the launch of Fifteen Years to Hiva Oa.

The trip to Spain was full of amazing good news about the book. First, I saw the book in the flesh for the first time and held my first informal book signing event.

Second, I heard from the legendary author Lin Pardey, who wrote an editorial review of my book that is now available on the book’s Amazon profile! Few things are as motivating to a new author as hearing that someone like Lin Pardey liked your book so much she wrote an editorial review.

Reader reviews of the book are now trickling in on both Amazon and Goodreads. If you received an early copy of the book, please consider taking a few minutes to write a review. Even just a single line will help tremendously.

I will be posting often during the book launch from my Instagram account. Follow me there if you want to see footage from the event.

Thank you all for subscribing to my Substack!

N.L. Duran.