One Hell Of a Passage

By Peter Smith

Kiwi Roa left the Azores in the mid-Atlantic after an extended stay, destination vaguely set in the Pacific–likely home to New Zealand, some 14,000 miles away I was single-handing and had wrapped up many years of expedition-making in the north, including a lifelong goal of a Northwest Passage transit. Government lockdowns and clampdowns on freedom of movement worldwide had become persistently disruptive to international sailors like me, although I did make brief stops at the Cape Verdes, then forced ones from Tristan da Cunha to Cape Town–bureaucracy successfully navigated with the welcome aid of Local assistants–for essential sail repairs and the addition of external cabin-top safety rails, before launching into the Indian Ocean.

In the event I was to end up in Hobart, which shaves a few miles off, Well before then, however, about halfway between the Cape and Australia are the French Kerguelan Islands. Normally, a visit would not be permitted, but fate intervened as both a 20-year-old aft lower shroud and its mating top fork terminal decided their expiry date was up.

On approach Kerguelen Island

Shoreside excursions were forbidden, but the French commandant offered their boatman to help me climb the mast. I used Sta-Lok reusable fittings and two 25 mm shackles to effect a jury rig which I hoped would last the remaining 5000 miles and 6 weeks at sea

I made an urgent departure from a Kerguelen leeshore trap, with a storm-force gale bearing down, pushing me into the southern Indian Ocean, blown out to open sea looking for safety under triple reefed main – only then to experience two uncontrolled gybes as the storm seas running offshore in the open water overcame the autopilot and my vain attempts at getting things under control My mistake was not to drive Kiwi Roa into the cradling safety of the heavy kelp beds under the lee of Kerguelen, where perhaps I could have waited out the storm in relative safety.

Kerguelen -Storm Riding

Cape Town to New Zealand is close to 7,000 nautical miles depending on how far south one is willing to venture. As the blow passed over, I laid a course for Heard Island at 54 degrees south, 400 miles away just off the Antarctica ice shelf. Very few people get to see this remote Australian active volcano, so a drive-by was irresistible. However, it is in the deep Southern Ocean, the gales never let up, and as the island morphed into a dark evil shape in the spray-driven fog, I considered it too dangerous to get any closer and gybed out onto a safe course back to sea and toward the underside of Australia, thankful to be gaining sea-room and safety again.

Heard Island - 54 degrees south

Sailing in the Southern Ocean consists of riding the depressions as they march east, while trying to avoid the worst sectors of the accompanying fronts, if possible Gybing on the wind shift as the fronts charge through is nerve-wracking and tiring, as long periods can be spent watching and waiting for the change, which is sometimes a slow switch over hours or a sudden and violent change taking seconds

I was now ultra-cautious and awake so as to control the gybe and reduce shock on the rig as the mast appeared to be moving a lot in its lower sections I could see the tension in the starboard aft lower I had repaired was alternating a lot, coinciding with a lot of noise as the mast worked in the step On deck, it all looked alright and I could see no reason for the on-off tensions in the lower shrouds, but down below the noise was disconcerting Kiwi Roa’s mast is a very strong aluminium section so I was sure I would have plenty of warning if things got any worse I made sure the mast runners were always deployed and tensioned up, and sailed under triple-reefed main, only resorting to a small headsail if the wind went forward of the beam.

With the safety of the rig now a priority my best and closest option for a landfall was Hobart as the winds should stay aft of the beam Australia still had severe Covid travel restrictions in place and it was impossible while at sea to navigate the layers of State and Federal procedures to apply for exemptions With the help of Australian sailor Mike Sargent and my son Craig, not to mention an eventually sympathetic Tasmanian government, the boat was granted entry under safe harbour provisions.

On safe landfall and efficient Australian Border Force personnel granting clearance, the stress slipped away, and I could reflect once more on a successful voyage I found Prince of Wales Bay Marina, north of Hobart central, the ideal marina to rest and repair. This marina is close to Hobart’s industrial area, and most things are available or can be ordered in from the mainland.

Prince of Wales Bay Marina, North of Hobart central

A rig inspection found the starboard lower and forward baby stay shrouds were broken. The lower had actually broken in the same way as the port shroud repaired in Kerguelan, and the baby stay had eight broken wires in the 12 mm 1x19 matrix. I suspect this damage was due to the boom slamming into the shrouds in the uncontrolled gybes when running out of Kerguelen

Since my arrival the Australian Covid rules for foreign entrants were finally relaxed, and while I’m here a circumnavigation of Australia is looking enticing.

Kiwi Roa

About The Author

Peter Smith is a New Zealand boat builder, long-distance cruiser and offshore sailor, and designer of the Rocna anchor range.

He lives and sails on his custom-designed self-built yacht, Kiwi Roa. The result of Peter’s lifelong experience in both racing and long-distance cruising, Kiwi Roa is a 15. 5m (52′) sloop built from aluminium plate, displaces 27 tonnes, built to go anywhere and handle the worst conditions.

Peter’s recent voyaging includes years exploring Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego, Antarctica, South Georgia, and the northern Articfringes of Svalbard, Iceland, and Greenland, culminating in the Northwest Passage eastward from Alaska. He finds himself now in Hobart by accident.

Professionally Peter was a boatbuilder, co-founding and developing Cavalier Yachts, one of New Zealand’s most prestigious yacht-building companies and the largest in the southern hemisphere at the time.

In the 2000’s Peter resorted to developing his own anchor design, unhappy with every option available, which was subsequently produced as the Rocna Anchors range, available worldwide.

More about Peter and his adventures can be found at his website: www.petersmith.net.nz